


A Lesson In Summer Romantics

by dolly_dagger87



Series: A Series of Romantic Lessons [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 80,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolly_dagger87/pseuds/dolly_dagger87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here at Camp Igintli we pride ourselves on the experience that your boy will receive. When you son attends our camp, they will enjoy a wide variety of outdoor activities including but not limited to archery and swimming. They will also be supervised by our devoted Counselors and Cabin Leaders in a safe and healthy learning environment.  While you may have seen many summer camps promising to provide these same amenities for your son, at Camp Inintli we believe in taking that one step further. We promise that the friendships that your son forms at Igintli will be a brotherhood they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gilove2dance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilove2dance/gifts).



In February in the middle of preparing for midterms and under stress like he’d never experienced before, Carwood Lipton had seen a flyer in the library for summer employment for people with leadership skills who were looking for team building opportunities for their resume. Carwood had paused and considered it for second and when he saw it was for a summer camp, he’d pulled off one of the tabs with the phone number without thinking twice. The flyer said living on camp was part of the deal, and that was appealing to a college freshmen. Like really appealing. After spending a month back with his mom and little brother over Christmas break, he’d realized that he wasn’t the same person that had left for college. Now he needed his own space and a summer job away sounded like a fine idea. His mama had been reluctant but had come around to his way of thinking when he mentioned that the extra money might cover the cost of his textbooks.

Now, though, it was June and Carwood was a little concerned he might be in over his head. He didn’t feel like he’d forgotten anything - no the camp had provided him a packing list and uniform t-shirts that he could wear with shorts or swim trunks depending on his activity. So he was pretty sure he had everything he needed but walking into the counselors’ mixer, he was pretty sure he’d never felt more like the new guy in his life.

He was considering bolting when a tall, blond man with icy blue eyes walked up to him. “You must be the new counselor. I’m Buck Compton.”

“Carwood Lipton,” Carwood said holding out his hand which Buck shook warmly.

“Don’t worry about it. We are a pretty tight group and you’ll get to know everybody pretty quick,” Buck said smiling. “Like this eternal ray of sunshine is Ron Speirs.”

Buck nodded to a man sitting behind them on a wooden crate who was currently carving grooves into it with a pocket knife. The lean man’s messy dark haired head shot up at the mention of his name and Carwood found himself staring into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen in real life. “Welcome to hell,” Ron said with a smirk.

Buck sighed. “As you can see, we put him in charge of moral.” Ron and Buck exchanged a series of looks that seemed to contain a whole conversation without any actual words and ended with Buck sighing again.

“Anyway, this pillar of responsibility is Martin, Johnny Martin.” A shorter boy with brown hair gave him a two finger salute.

“The serious one in the corner is Herbert Sobel, you might want to stay away from him…”

“Far, far away,” Ron said, interrupting Buck.

“Could you not with him this summer?” Buck asked, turning around to look at Ron.

“I’m a counselor now, Buck. How could I not with him this summer,” Ron said with a smirk that warmed the back of Carwood’s neck.

Buck sighed again. “The old married couple in the corner are Lewis Nixon and Dick Winters,” he said pointing to each one in turn, “and their best friend Harry Welsh is the jittery fellow beside them.” Welsh was bouncing his leg and glancing at the clock on the wall even though it couldn’t have changed in any meaningful way since the last time he looked.

“Don’t get used to seeing him after dark,” Ron said.

“He’s got a girl across the lake,” Martin added. “The second this is over, he’ll make a beeline for the lake.” Carwood nodded. The girls camp had been mentioned when he interviewed for this job. Also mentioned was the fact that it was forbidden to go over there.

“And that leaves us with Norman Dike.” Buck looked around the multipurpose room. “Where is Dike?”

“Won’t that be the question of the summer,” Ron said.

Buck turned to glare at him, but Carwood could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“He’s not wrong,” Martin said. “Dike’s kissed somebody’s ass to get here and every time there’s work to be done, the fucker up and vanishes…”

Martin might have had something else to add but he was cut off when Sobel stepped forward clearing his throat. “I just wanted to inform you gentlemen that we will be running this camp differently. In the past there has been too much flagrant rule breaking…”

“Jesus,” Ron sighed, shaking his head and returning his attention to the knife and the crate.

“Speirs, would you mind paying attention?” Sobel said.

“Yeah,” Ron shrugged. “I think I would.”

Carwood watched as Nixon barely concealed a snort of laughter and heard Buck’s whispered “mother of god” next to Carwood’s right shoulder.

“CL Speirs,” Sobel started but Ron cut him off.

“Ah ah ah, Counselor. Now, you don’t get to pull rank this year and I don’t have to put up with your bullshit.” Ron’s posture was ridged now and all hint of his earlier teasing was gone.

The room was dead still. Everyone was looking at either Sobel or Ron for some idea of what to do next. For his part, Carwood could tell Sobel didn’t have any idea of what to do with himself. Whatever history the two men shared, it was obvious that Sobel’s go-to tactic was to pull rank and now that it was no longer effective, if it had ever been, and Sobel just seemed lost. For his part, Ron looked like he was just getting started, like he’d been spoiling for this fight for quite some time and had the look of someone who was delighted to see the moment had finally arrived.

The tension in the room snapped in half when the doors at the other end of the room opened to reveal a tall man with graying hair, who walked with the air of someone used to being in charge. Carwood watched as Ron flipped his knife close and the fight seemed to roll out of him. Well, everywhere but his eyes.

“Welcome Counselors to another summer at camp Igintli. I’m Chief Counselor Sink, and I’m glad to see some returning faces,” he said nodding to the half of the room containing Winters, Nixon, and Welsh, “and some new faces,” he said nodding to Carwood.

Carwood tried to smile like he hadn’t almost witnessed a fight. He hoped if he wasn’t successful, at least maybe, it could be chalked up to nerves.

“Now, the boys will get here tomorrow and I want you all to be out in the parking lot shaking hands with their parents, welcoming the boys and makin’ sure everyone gets settled in. Pay attention to new kids, I don’t want any of them getting homesick the first night. Your room and activity assignments are on the bulletin board. Dick’s already drawn up the room assignments for the campers and that’s out there too. So let’s have a good summer,” he finished, clapping his hands together. “Herbert, I’ll need to see you in the kitchen.”

After Sink left, Carwood was nearly trampled in the rush to get out the door. He had just opened the door in time to hear Ron curse.

“Fuck,” he said drawing out the ‘f’ before turning away from the offending piece of paper.

Martin took his place before hitting the bulletin board with a closed fist. “Damn it Buck, we got Norman.”

Lipton shrugged. Well that was one piece of paper he didn’t need to read, he knew he was bunking with Nixon, Winters, and Welsh.

“Ahh archery,” Ron said, looking at next piece of paper. “At least the summer won’t be a total crapshoot.”

Martin looked over next piece of paper. “Aww man that sucks,” he said patting Lipton’s shoulder. “Arts and crafts is never a crowd favorite.”

Carwood shrugged, that was probably the joys of being the new guy.

“Goddamn it,” Ron said having finally made his way down to the last piece of paper. “Dick, why do you do this every damn year...you grouped them all together. If they picked their bunks themselves, it would be pretty close to this.”

“It’s about finding a good mix of older and younger boys,” Winters said.

“Yeah and your perfect balance just happens to give me Luz and Muck, first thing in the morning, with sharp objects,” Ron said, pulling his duffel bag onto his shoulder and walking off toward their cabins, while Lipton tried not to look too disappointed that he wasn’t going to head to the same cabin. 

*~*

Eugene Roe rode along next his mother in silence. He’d tried reasoning his way out of this thirty minutes ago. Twenty minutes ago he’d tried begging. So now he was just going to pout silently until they got to the camp. He didn’t really think this was going to make any difference but he was not going to give his mother the satisfaction of giving up and accepting his fate. It wasn’t like this was really going to help. He hadn’t had any friends at his last school and he doubted if he was going to have any friends at summer camp. She was worried about him, worried about moving him to a different state. Roe was fine though, he’d stopped worrying about making friends a long time ago. He’d made up friends while he was at his last school so she wouldn’t worry about him. He figured he’d probably just do that again in the fall because it made his mama happy and he liked to make her happy.

When they pulled into the parking lot there were a lot of other cars, families unloading, boys with duffel bags just like him - probably since the camp had recommended it on their packing list. His mother had gotten him everything on that packing list, she’d been so pleased about it. Roe had to admit that he liked his raincoat, though he doubted he’d get a chance to wear it since the Georgia air felt like a physical thing that would be easier to walk around then through, but it was on the packing list so his mother packed it. The only thing in his bag not on the packing list was a large bag of M&M’s his mother had tucked in at the bottom. The packing list forbade candy of any kind since part of the Camp Igintli experience was a well rounded nutrition. His mother had said this was barbaric, that she was sending him to summer camp, not to prison so she put a bag in his duffel and promised to send a care package as soon as he told her what his new friends liked too. It did make Roe smile that his mother was willing to use candy to help with his popularity. He just felt bad that it wouldn’t help.

His mom finally broke the silence when she pulled into a parking spot. “I know you didn’t really want to come and that you’re placating me, but try for me to make one friend. I don’t care if he lives in another state and you end up spending all your time emailing him. I just want you to have one friend.”

“Ok, mama,” Roe said, biting his bottom lip. 

The check-in line took forever and after his mother had signed him in, he was escorted by a very severe looking man who introduced himself as counselor Sobel. Roe could be wrong, but he didn’t think this man was anyone’s friend. He took him to a cabin with a big green three above the door. Roe walked up the few short steps with a death grip on his duffel. It would be a long summer if the three guys he was living with didn’t like him. When he opened the door, he saw that all of his roommates had already arrived. When the door closed behind him, all three heads turned in his direction.

“Are you our plus one?” A shorter boy, with dirty blond hair and golden eyes, hopped off his bed.

Roe nodded. “I’m Eugene Roe.”

“Well Roe,” the boy said, getting up and extending his arms out beside him. “Welcome to cabin three. I am your cabin leader Skip Muck. You can call me Skip, you can call me Muck, and if you yelled ‘hey asshole’ into a crowd, I’d probably turn around. My partners in crime are Alex Penkala-” He pointed to the boy with brown hair leaning back against the headboard of his bed.

“Hey, Roe,” the boy said with a smile that did make Roe feel better. The warm welcome made Roe think the rest of the summer wouldn’t be so bad.

“-And in this corner, we have Don Malarkey,” Muck said, gesturing to the ginger haired boy who was busy trying to string a fishing pole, but when his name was called, he looked up.

“Make yourself at home, Roe,” he said warmly before returning his attention back to the pole.

“Well,” Muck said, clapping his hands together. “We need to get you unpacked. Now there is a right way and a wrong way to pack these footlockers if you want to pass inspection. ”

“Oh, give it a rest, Skip,” Penkala growled. “It’s gonna go to four, it always goes to four.”

“What?” Roe said as he handed his duffel over to Muck’s waiting hands.

“Cabin of the Camp,” Muck said as he started laying things out on Roe’s bed. “It’s an award that goes to the cleanest, most cared for cabin. And,” he said, turning to look at Penkala, “since Speirs got promoted this year, it’s our year.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Malarkey said firmly. “Speirs taught Grant everything he knows. They could keep a distillery in there and still pass inspection. Hell, he’s probably does have a distillery in there.”

“Ignore the naysayers,” Muck said. “Grant has three new kids to whip into shape and it’s our year.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Penkala said. “He’ll still have the floors clean enough you can eat off them.”

“But it’s our year,” Roe said.

Muck smiled at him. “I like you. Now let’s pack your foot…”

He trailed off mid-sentence and Roe looked up to see the bag of M&M’s his mother had put in his bag, that up until right now, he’d forgotten about.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Muck tossed the bag back and forth between his hands.

“Contraband,” the other two boys said, almost in unison.

Muck laughed, “Now every cabin has their own way of dealing with contraband…”

“What I want to know is how they do it in four,” Malarkey interrupted. “Because they never lose anything and I refuse to believe it’s because they don’t have it. You know Speirs had shit and you know Sobel tossed that cabin double what he did to the rest just to catch him with it.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Muck said, glaring at Malarkey. “Over in one, Luz hides everything in box springs. Bull straps everything behind the head boards with ductape. Don’s right, four uses black magic, but these are very overly complicated methods when the answer is so simple. Do you know what stops Sobel in his tracks every time?”

Roe shook his head.

Muck walked over to his footlocker and opened it. “A tidy footlocker. Sure he’ll move things around a bit but he’s not going to take the time to search such an obvious place because he’s too smart for us.” Muck winked at him and Roe smiled.

“So come, grasshopper. Let’s get your raincoat and I’ll show you how to make these M&M’s disappear.”

*~*

It was official. David Webster had run away from home. His parents thought he was at a young leadership conference in Baltimore. He was actually getting off a bus in Georgia where he had taken their money and had enrolled in an all boys’ camp that promised a variety of outdoor activities. So maybe the situation didn’t meet the strictest definition of running away, but Webster was going to count it. He had made a promise to himself that he was not going to spend another summer at an SAT Prep, Model U.N., or Educating Tomorrow’s Leaders Today. This summer, he was going to have summer vacation, he was going to spend it outside, and he was not going to wear a tie. His parents were one day going to pack him off to Harvard so they could go to cocktail parties and pass his accomplishments around like a trophy that they had won. Isn’t it marvelous? Yes it reflects so positively on us. And he would let them do it. He would let them pack him off to Harvard because he lacked a grander vision to take its place. Sure, he had a vague idea that he might wish to study sharks, but it was a hazy vision that quickly faded if he gave it too much thought. The impartial dreaming of a child. So he would go and fill their vision of his life, but he would be damned if he didn’t go there with at least one summer of rebellion under his belt. One summer that he could hold close as he drowned in living someone else’s life. 

As he got off the bus, the first thing he saw towering above the heads of the families milling around their kids was the sign proclaiming the name of the camp, Igintli. The camp’s website had proudly proclaimed that it was named after the Cherokee word for ‘brother’. It had promised the boys attending would form lasting friendships that they would carry with them for the rest of their lives. Webster was not that optimistic. He’d managed his expectations to include a tan and maybe civil conversation with his roommates. Friendships that would last for life? Yeah, those were not on the menu. He shouldered his duffel bag and walked over to the sign-in table.

“Hey boy,” a man greeted him. He had ginger hair, an inviting smile and a scar on his cheek. “What’s you name?”

“David Webster.”

“Webster, Webster,” the man said, sliding his finger down a list of names. “Ron,” he called, before pointing in Webster’s direction. “Four. Ok, so you are going to follow Counselor Speirs and he’ll take you to cabin four. And I’m sorry, I’m Counselor Lipton. This is my first summer and I’m bad at this.”

“It’s my first summer too,” Webster said and he knew it sounded lame when he heard it.

Lipton just smiled. “Hope it’s good one.”

Webster nodded and turned to follow Speirs. If Lipton had exuded an easy calm, Speirs’ presence wrapped Webster in unease. He wasn’t that much taller than Webster but for the first time, David had a chance to appreciate that the difference was all in how one carried themselves. Speirs walked with a command and authority that David knew he could never hope to possess.

“Your cabin leader is Grant, do what he says,” Speirs said before walking away.

Webster just stood there for a second trying to process, before walking up the steps to the cabin. Inside were two boys, one, with a rather impressive set of ears, was perched on the edge of his bed, as if to ready to burst up should something exciting happen. The other boy was thinner and had his nose buried in a Justice League comic book.

“Are you Webster?” the first boy asked. He was looking at Webster like he was the something exciting he’d been waiting for.

“Yeah I’m Webster, David Webster,” he said, holding out his hand for the other boy to shake.

The firm over eager handshake made David feel like he might come out of this with at least one friend.

“I’m Don Hoobler, but you can call me Hoob. Everybody calls me Hoob.”

The Justice League comic book had still not moved, so probably just the one friend.

“Your bunk is that one, next to Joe,” Hoob said, bouncing a little. He was probably starved for human contact. Joe Justice League didn’t seem very talkative.

Webster ignored him and set about unpacking his duffel.

“So, ‘Webster’ like the dictionary?” and Webster looked up to see the comic book had been lowered to reveal a leer that almost promised to kick Webster’s ass.

It wouldn’t be the first time David had gotten into a fight, but he’d like to get it over with because it wouldn’t do to come home with a black eye. One didn’t pick those up at leadership seminars.

“It speaks,” Webster said before returning his attention to his duffel.

“What did you expect? That I was going to do kiss your prep school ass the minute you walked through the door?”

“Guys,” Hoob said with a wine, “it would be cool if we could all get along.” 

“But it’s not required.”

All three heads turned to face the newest person to arrive in the room.

“I’m Grant, I’m your cabin leader.”

Grant wore intimidation like a child wears their parents’ clothes for dress up. You could tell he was aiming for Speirs, but he missed it by a fair bit. Speirs wore intimidation like a second skin and on Grant, you could tell it was a little big in the shoulder, a bit too long in the sleeves. He might grow into it one day, but for now, the costume nature spoiled the effect.

“Cabin four has a history of winning the award handed out by the camp counselors and this year isn’t going to be any different. Sobel hates us more than any of the other cabins, so it’s going to be difficult, but not impossible. We are going to keep this place clean, we are going to be rewarded for it, and we are not going to get docked for contraband. I know you have some, so let’s have it out on your bedspreads.” The speech rolled out of Grant as if he’d heard it before, the rushed delivery betraying that he’d been dying to repeat it.

Web dug around in his bag and pulled out two candy bars he’d bought at the airport and his journal. Hoob practically produced a candy store. Joe added half a dozen comics and several packs of gum. 

“Ok,” Grant said as he opened a pillowcase that had been sitting on his bunk. “In it goes Hoob, all of it.”

Hoob looked on the verge of tears, but he placed all his candy inside the pillowcase.

“Ok, Liebgott.” Grant paused in front of the bed. “Just the gum, the comics aren’t on the list.”

Joe bit his lip and tossed the packs into the pillowcase. He glared at Grant for good measure but Grant had already moved on to Webster’s candy bars.

“What’s that?” Grant nodded towards Webster’s journal.

“Aww Web, is that your diary?” Joe asked.

“That’s not on the list,” Grant said. “You can keep it. Ok, what you put into this pillowcase, you can take out of this pillowcase, but only those things. We aren’t going to start stealing from each other.”

The three boys once again looked at each other to see if one of them knew what was going on. Grant kneeled down under Joe’s bed and pressed the heel of his hand hard against a floor board. The board popped free. The three boys moved around so that they could see down into the little cubby hole that was lined with boards that were covered with peeling green paint. Grant worked the pillowcase down into the hole and then returned the floorboard.

“You don’t tell anybody about this, not even you mothers. I can walk into any of the other cabins and I know how they hide their shit, but no one knows our secret. And that is how it’s going to stay.”

The three boys nodded and even though Grant might not quite have mastered intimidation, there still seemed to be much he could teach them.

*~*

Lewis Nixon flopped down onto his bed with a heavy groan.

“It’s only move-in day Nix. You can’t start collapsing on me now.”

Nix turned his head to look at the man sitting on the bed next to his. Dick Winters had been his best friend since he was the age of the boys that had been dropped off in the parking lot today. “I hate move-in day. I hate when parents come up to me and want me to reassure them about their decision to abandon their kid for three months. Yes, you’ve made a wonderful decision to ditch your kid. If you’re lucky, he’ll end up like my roommate, but there’s always the chance he’ll turn out like the steely-eyed bastard next door. Don’t like the odds, maybe trying raising them yourself.” He heaved himself up off the bed and headed to his footlocker.

“I don’t know, Grant hasn’t turned out so bad,” Dick said, not looking up from whatever book he was reading.

“It’s a long summer and you gave him three freshmen. I’m mean, I’m rooting for him, but that Liebgott kid looks like a handful,” Nix said, pulling the false bottom of his footlocker up. He looked forward to the day he turned twenty-one and could start keeping his whisky on the bookshelf like a normal person.

“You’re hiding it in your own locker now?” Dick questioned, looking up.

“There are three more bottles in yours,” Nix said as he carefully filled his flask. “But I thought I was going to have to share with Harry and a new roommate. I figured I might need some extras. Lip not drinking has been the most exciting development of the whole summer.”

Dick shook his head, but Nix had seen the fleeting smile on his lips before it disappeared.

“By the way,” Nix commented as he set his footlocker back in order, “remind me to thank the handsome bastard who secluded all my activities after lunch.”

“Figured it was would make up for the lack of private lodging,” Dick said.

“Oh it doesn’t, but it’s a nice gesture,” Nix said, laying down at the end of Dick’s bed so that his feet were braced against the floor. The only reason that Nix ever came down to this camp anymore was because it meant so very much to Dick. What a difference it made when you chose to go to summer camp over being forced to come here so that your parents could go to Bali. The first year might have been unbearable without Dick, and then they’d spent every second of the time apart emailing and running up a rather impressive phone bill. 

Every year after that, he practically flew off the bus in his hurry to find Dick, back when the summer was all they had. When he had to cram enough of Dick in the holes of his life so that it wouldn’t hurt so much when he was gone. That was three years ago. Now, they had an apartment within walking distance of Northwestern and a queen sized bed that they both fit in comfortably. He had breakfast with Dick in his boxers standing over the kitchen sink. He had date night and pizza on the sofa. 

Now, he was back to the separate twin beds and trying to find some private time. Now, they had breakfast in the mess with Sobel glaring at them every time he passed. Now, he has activities and camp fires at night. Every year Nix promised himself he was going to tell Dick ‘you know I really hate it down there. Let’s to Bali this year without the kids.’ But every year Dick would get his duffel out of the closet with a reverence that made Nix’s chest ache and before Dick could say anything, Nix had bought their tickets to Georgia. While Lewis Nixon was normally a very selfish person, he’d move heaven and earth if it could make Dick Winters happy.

This was something Dick wanted. He wanted to give other boys the same summers he had when he’d grown up. ‘It’s given me so much, it feels wrong to not give back something in return.’

“What?” Dick’s voice pulled Nix out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Nix said.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Just looking.”

“Well cut it out,” Dick said, nudging Nix’s shoulder with his bare foot.

“Well gentlemen, I am off to Kitty’s waiting arms,” Harry proclaimed as he entered the cabin, pushing the door open with enough force that in bounced off the wall. 

Nix jumped, dropping out of the moment and into reality with a startling speed.

“Did you shower for her?” Nix asked, watching as Harry draped his towel over the end of his bed to dry. “You don’t shower for us and we have to live with you.”

“Course I showered,” Harry said. “I know how to treat a lady.”

“I don’t know, Dick hasn’t complained yet,” Nix said.

Dick laughed and Harry just shook his head.

“Well don’t wait up boys,” Harry called as he left the room.

“I can’t believe Sink put him in the charge of the boats this year. Might as well have built a bridge from here to Kitty’s window,” Nix said.

“Think he felt sorry for him after last year,” Dick replied, closing his book and putting it on the nightstand.

Nix smiled at the memory of Harry with deep welts around his ankles for half the summer, Mr. I-don’t-even-get-poison-ivy. They still hadn’t healed to quite right when he left in the fall.

“Think you’ll actually teach your water safety class this year?” Dick asked.

“Why break tradition?” Nix turned his head so he was once again looking at Dick. “Speaking of tradition, do you think the boys have found all of our old make out spots or might one be available for use?”


	2. Two

Roe woke up in the morning to the sun shining through one of the cabin’s front windows and the sound of Skip swearing as he tripped over Malarkey’s footlocker.

“Son of a fuckin’ bitch.”

“Don’t give me that face, it’s not my fault it didn’t grow legs overnight and move.”

He was then warned off a shower by Malarkey and Penkala.

“It is the coldest water you’ve ever felt in your life. Wait ‘til the afternoon, the pipes will have had a chance to warm up.”

“Just rinse off in the lake this afternoon. No one cares how you smell.”

After he got dressed, Skip pronounced it a failure.

“No, no, no, shorts are for after activities. Wear your swim trunks during the day. You don’t have to carry them that way, you’ll be surprised how fast they dry. Take your towel. Did you put on sunscreen because you’ll go up like a match. We need to make sure one of us brings that, I have a delicate complexion. Oh, lock this. A locked locker keeps the Sobel away.”

They collectively edited his breakfast while they walked through the line.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Once you’re seen them before they’re cooked…just no.”

“They’re cardboard, but once you drown it in syrup, they perk right up.” 

“Not the grape juice, never the grape juice.”

“Unless you like the taste of cough syrup.”

Roe didn’t know if all the new kids were getting this much help, but he was grateful that he was. Roe also wasn’t sure if they were doing this because they were his friends or because they thought he was their responsibility and he wasn’t sure if that hurt or not. Roe was just submerging his French toast sticks in syrup as instructed when a tray was plopped down on the other side of the table. It belonged to an older boy with brown hair and bangs that couldn’t seem to decide if they wanted to stick straight out or curve over his forehead. 

“Aww look, they gave you a little one too.”

“George Luz.” The smile on Skip’s face was almost blinding. “Luz, Roe, Roe, Luz.”

“Hi,” Roe stammered.

“Doesn’t say much does he?” Luz said as he tilted his head.

“I wouldn’t talk to you either if I had a choice,” said the boy who sat down next to him with an accent his mother described as Northern. “Joe Toye. Kid, when you realize these three are full of shit, you come on down to cabin one.”

“Don’t listen to him, Roe.” Malarkey gestured in a sweeping back forth motion of his plastic fork. “You don’t want any part in that.”

“Hey, we got ourselves matching newbies!” A third booming voice said over his shoulder, causing Roe to turn around and see two boys, one towering above him still speaking to the other members of the table. Roe didn’t follow what he was saying because he was staring at the one standing directly behind him, a boy about his age. He had brown hair, a lock of it falling on to his forehead, and was smiling at Roe in a way that made Roe swallow hard.

“We christened ours Babe,” the original speaker said, drawing Roe out of the staring contest.

“Ours calls himself Roe,” Skip said, pointing at him with his spoon.

“I’m Bill, kid. Babe, that’s Penkala, Malarkey and Skip. Sit next to Roe and make friends.” Bill took the seat next to Babe across from Joe.

Roe was just digging into his toast when he heard Babe make a sputtering coughing noise. Roe looked over to see Babe’s face twisted in disgust as he eyed the grape juice box in his hand.

“Skip says not to get the grape juice because it tastes like cough syrup,” Roe said, gesturing to the box with his fork.

“Gee, I wish someone had bothered to tell me that, fuckers,” Babe glared down the table, but no one seemed to notice.

“You can have the rest of my milk,” Roe said, handing over the small carton. “I only used it for my cereal.”

“Thanks Roe, you’re a real friend,” Babe said, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“You’re welcome, Babe.”

“Babe,” the other boy repeated, smiling.

Roe returned his attention to his breakfast, surprised that he was smiling too. In fact every time he looked over at Babe, the other boy would smile at him. Roe decided he liked Babe’s smile. He also thought it wouldn’t be so bad if Penkala, Malarkey, and Skip just saw him as a responsibility if he got to be Babe’s friend. He also resolved to find out what kind of candy Babe liked so he could write his mother.

He did learn that Babe was from Philly. So was Bill, so that should have meant something Babe explained glaring at the juice box. Roe thinks he got the jest of it but he wasn’t really sure. Babe told him he had three brothers and a little sister. And that his name was Edward but only the nuns called him Edward. And for some reason, probably because he was nervous, Roe told him about his mama, moving, and her worrying about him not making friends. 

“Well, write her and tell ‘bout me. Dear Mama Roe, met this guy at breakfast. His name is Babe, he’ll do for now. The search continues. Love, Roe. Or probably not that, what does your mother call you?”

“Eugene,” Roe said.

“So love, Eugene then. Bill says if you write your folks and take the letter to Winters, he’ll give you an envelope and a stamp. You’re supposed to take ‘em to Sobel but Luz thinks he reads them.”

“Except the search doesn’t continue,” Roe said, not quite able to look at Babe as he spoke.

“Well that’s good,” Babe said, bumping his shoulder into Roe’s. “’Cause I like you.”

“So you boys ready to head up the hill to meet Spooky Speirs?”

“Jesus Malark,” Luz moaned. “Don’t scare them.”

“Yeah, it will be fine. Just pay attention during the safety lecture and we’ll all get out of this alive,” Penkala explained.

Roe figured he could handle it because Babe was going to be there.

*~*

Webster leaned back against the wall of the cabin as he wrote in his journal. He was trying to confine the whole day into its pages so that he would be able to look back at the last he time he dared to think for himself. Joe was sitting on the other side of the door reading a Daredevil comic book that was thicker than some of his others and had a library withdraw sticker on the outside. It was easy to see why the library had given the book up for dead since Joe was forced to hold it in an awkward fashion so the pages didn’t slide out of its cover. Hoob was lying about six inches away from Joe’s feet, both his and Joe’s towels bunched under his head to form a makeshift pillow, and judging by the stillness of his hands, he’d fallen asleep. Webster understood the impulse. Halfway back from swimming, he’d hit a wall and judging by the subdued nature of his cabin mates, he wasn’t the only one. He’d probably be in bed right now had he not been trying to dry out. Between swimming and kayaking, which had involved purposely tipping over their kayaks so they could learn how to right them, Webster was sure he had never been this wet in his whole life.

The door to their cabin opened to reveal Grant, who in contrast, did not look like he spent the afternoon at the bottom of a lake. His hair looked at least brushed and he was wearing his cabin leader t-shirt with cargo shorts.

Joe whistled. “Where you going all dolled up, sweetheart?”

“I have a staff meeting, Lieb,” Grant said with the look of a parent who was relieved to get out of the house of a few minutes.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Joe asked.

“Just stay out of trouble, Joe. I don’t want to have help Webster bury your body when I get back,” Grant grinned as he said this and Webster could tell Joe took it in stride. The easy banter they had developed in the course of day grated on Webster because he had not yet mastered dealing with Joe.

Joe was like a bomb in which all the wires were red. So once the timer started, even if you did manage to call the bomb squad, it didn’t matter because the whole thing was going up.

“Well, how do you suggest I occupy my time?” Joe had closed the comic and set it beside him.

“Here’s an idea, Joe. Why not try writing your folks, I’m sure your mother is worried about you,” Grant said.

“Would you like me to tell my parents how much I love my cabin leader?” Joe asked.

Grant laughed, “Sure Joe, it would be a nice change.”

“That would take some of the heat off you when I turn up dead,” Joe said.

“And buried behind the archery shed,” Grant said before turning to walk toward the multipurpose room.

“Have fun on your date, honey,” Joe called out to him.

“The archery shed might be too good for you,” Grant called back without turning around.

Joe smiled and settled back against the cabin before turning to look at Webster, who wished more than anything that he could just disappear. It had been like this all day. Anytime Joe approached anything that resembled boredom, he’d turn on Webster. 

“So you’re already writing your parents. Let me guess: Dearest Mother, my roommates are so cruel-”

Webster cut him off. “I’m writing in my journal, I can’t write my parents.”

“Oh, you writing about me?” Joe asked.

“A little presumptuous to think you’d be in it, don’t you think?” Webster said and when Joe didn’t immediately respond, Webster looked up. “It means…”

“Fuck you, I know what it means,” Joe spat. “It means I’d be lucky for you to write about me in your goddamn journal.” Joe snatched the comic back up and resumed reading it, or at least buried his nose in it.

Webster couldn’t help but sigh. Grant could joke about killing Joe and leaving his body in the woods, but if Webster so much as pushed back a little, Joe flew off the handle.

Webster had just been debating the merits of going back into the cabin when Hoob leaned up onto his elbows and asked, “Why can’t you write your parents, Web?”

“Postmarks,” Webster said, not trusting himself yet with complicated sentences.

“What?” Hoob questioned.

“When you mail a letter, the first post office that gets the letter puts a stamp on it marking where the letter came from.”

“What’s that shit got to do with why you can’t write your mom and dad?” Joe had lowered the comic again and rejoined the world.

“Well Joe, my parents think I’m at a leadership conference in Baltimore, so getting a letter with postmark from Georgia would be pretty confusing for them.” Web looked up from his journal to look Joe in eye.

“A leadership camp?”

“Educating Tomorrow’s Leaders Today.”

“Fuck,” Joe swore. “Are they all named like that?”

“All what?” Webster asked.

“Preppy douchebag camps,” Joe clarified.

Webster shook his head. “Yeah they want to sound sophisticated to justify their inflated price.”

Joe’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. So you, what, took your mommy and daddy’s money, enrolled in a completely different summer camp, and bought plane tickets to whole other state?”

“And forged my mother’s signature on the consent forms,” Webster added. “My parents, they aren’t really observant. They’re not even in the country. They are on some spiritual retreat in India. If I drowned in the lake tomorrow, I have no idea if Winters could find someone to come claim my body.”

“That sucks,” Joe said, all hint of laughter or teasing drained from his voice.

“Don’t placate me,” Webster snapped.

“I’m not, you get to be pissed.” Webster hated that he was surprised that Joe knew what placate meant. “You get to be pissed. No one deserves parents that don’t give a shit.” Joe shook his head and looked away. When he turned back to Webster, he said, “If it makes you feel better, you could have my spot behind the archery shed. I’m sure Grant’s spent a lot of time picking it out.”

Webster had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. “Thanks Joe, that’s means a lot.” He placed a hand over his chest.

Joe laughed and for first time Webster appreciated the sound. This laugh was because of him and not at him, and Webster believed that distinction made all the difference.

“Wow, Web. Who knew.” Joe shook his head. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Webster implored.

Joe shook his head again. “Fuck no, this is Fight Club. Doesn’t leave the cabin. Right Hoob?”

Hoob nodded emphatically, “First and second rule, man.”

Joe shook his head, still seemingly unable to process all the new information he’d just learned. “I cannot believe you ran away from home. But more importantly, suppose someone wanted to forge their mother’s signature?”

Webster laughed. He finally couldn’t hold it in any longer and it surprised him to no end that Joe Liebgott was the cause.

*~*

“Fuck,” Nix swore as he sat down on the end of the bed to take his shoes off. “There’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back. Why do we need to keep having these staff meetings? Grant and Luz would be better at my job then I am, while Skip and Bull are smart enough not to want it.” With his shoes off, Nix leaned back against the bed. “And don’t even get me started on dinner. Sobel really out did himself this time. I think they serve better food in prison.”

Dick squeezed his knee before laying down beside him. “Get that out of your system?”

“A weight has been lifted.”

Dick smiled and shook his head.

“Can we add staff meetings to the list of things I just pretend to do around here?” Nix asked. “Like teaching water safety?”

“Oh no,” Dick said. “If I have to go to those I’m taking you with me.”

“And you have to lead them now. Fuck were you thinkin’?”

“I have no idea.”

“Did Harry leave yet?” Nix asked, sitting up and looking around the room.

“Yeah, I think he took off after the staff meeting. Why?”

“And Lip left with Ron,” Nix said, looking down at Dick.

“‘With’ seems a bit strong of a word…”

“Why are you still dressed?” Nix asked, sounding scandalized.

Dick laughed.

“No, I’m fucking serious,” Nix said, practically leaping off the bed. He worked off one of his socks as he hopped over to the door. “We have at least an hour before Lip realizes that Ron is not in fact mysterious, but actually socially stunted and you were going to let me waste it complaining?” Nix yanked the door open and slipped his sock over the door knob.

“And now you’re all the way over there,” Dick said.

Nix tugged his other sock off and turned off the cabin lights. “Took me two fucking days to get you alone.”

Nix pulled his shirt off over his head as he walked back towards the bed.

“Am I’m going to get to assist in this undressing or are you just going to do it all yourself?” Dick said, sitting up and moving so he was resting against the headboard.

“I am a very motivated individual,” Nix said as he got onto the bed, legs straddling Dick’s. “I will not be distracted by foreplay. Why the fuck do you still have your shirt on?” 

“And they say romance is dead,” Dick muttered as he pulled his shirt over his head. He just got it off in time to watch Nix pull the nightstand drawer completely out. It landed on the floor with a crash. Nix, unfazed, just retrieved the lube from the back of the drawer.

“Romance is for people that don’t have a roommate. A roommate whose absence hinges on the fact that he hasn’t figured out that Ronald Speirs is creepy. We are on borrowed time.”

“You need to pay more attention to Lip if you think Ron is going to be a deterrent,” Dick said, wrapping his hand around the back of Nix’s neck and pulling him forward.

The moment their lips touched, Nix knew he was not going to win this one. They were not going to race to a frenzied orgasmic completion. Nix might have been able to when they were freshmen in different dorms because Dick didn’t want to rush living together, but age had only made Dick more stubborn. So they were going to take their time because Nix normally folded like a cheap lawn chair when it came to giving Dick things he wanted.

So if foreplay was he wanted, that’s what he’d get. He’d let Dick maneuver them over so his back was on the bed and Dick was looming over him, hands on either side of his head. He wouldn’t complain when Dick became fixated on the line of his neck and the length of his chest. He’d just tug the back of Dick’s hair and pull him into a kiss that would communicate desperation and ‘holy shit, it’s been two days since I’ve seen you naked.’ He would do this because in the end it would all be worth it. Their clothes would come off and be strewn around the room. In the morning, he’d find his shorts half under Harry’s bed. In the end, he’d get Dick’s fingers on him, in him, and ‘mother of god, Dick. I’m not actually going to break.’ He’d get frenzied, faster and harder if he’d just wait Dick out. In the end, Dick always came around to Nix’s way of thinking. They always got there in the end, one after the other, tumbling over into pleasure so good it was blinding. A little patience was always worth it.

After, they got cleaned up using a water bottle and Nix’s beach towel. Dick convinced him that boxers might be a good idea because ‘Lip will be back at some point.’ Dick also had the presence of mind to remember the sock. Nix had trouble remembering anything after good sex. After, he lay there with Dick’s head pillowed on his chest and his arms wrapped around him.

“You’ll have to wear your t-shirt tomorrow,” Nix said as he rubbed his thumb over the bruise on Dick’s shoulder. Though in his defense, he could look at Dick suggestively and he’d probably bruise.

“It hadn’t occurred to me care,” Dick said, holding him a little tighter.

Even as Nix drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t quite figured out how he got so lucky.

*~*

After dinner, Carwood headed back to the craft room. He still had things to put away and he wanted to get the morning set-up done now so he could hit the snooze button with a clean conscience in the morning. He was mostly just glad to have his first day behind him. All the other days would mostly be just like this one and since he’d survived, he liked his odds of making it through the summer in one piece. He was just washing out the paint brushes he’d left to soak when he heard the door open. He looked up to see Ron walk in.

He didn’t really know what to make of the casual way Ron invited himself into Carwood’s space. After all, he’d locked the door behind him when he came in earlier.

“You know, it’s been a really long time since I’ve been in here,” Ron said as if his presence was nothing out of the ordinary. Or that a locked door was generally an obstacle he encountered and dispatched with ease. “Pretty sure I started skipping crafts by my second summer. Still smells the same though.”

Carwood smiled. The first time he’d walked in here, the smell of wet paint and sawdust had smacked him in the face. The smell was so overwhelming it had been hard to breathe, so he kept most of the windows opened.

“Your mother must have been so disappointed. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to tell them when they ask why they have to do this?” Carwood said as he laid the brushes out to dry.

“How many birdhouses and ceramic ashtrays does one mother need?” Ron asked sitting down on one of picnic tables and resting his feet on the bench.

“Such a thoughtful son to spare her the burden,” Lip said as he dried his hands.

“Is there a reason you’re doing your own clean up? Are you one of those people who find it cathartic?”

There seemed to be no awkward getting-to-know-you phase with Ron, no easing into his personality. Just a very short drop into familiarity. Carwood didn’t know if he found this incredibly forward or extremely endearing.

“No,” Lip said, shaking his head. “But who else is going to do it?”

“Uh, the kids that make the mess,” Ron said as if it were the obvious answer.

“I figured they already don’t want to be here, if I made them clean, there’d be in an open rebellion,” Lip said, turning his attention to the materials list for next day’s craft.

“Well, yeah they wouldn’t do it for free but they can bought relatively cheaply,” Ron said. “You’d be surprised what you can get done around here for a surreptitiously placed candy bar. You don’t think Welsh racks up all those kayaks by himself do you?”

Carwood looked up from the list. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“And it’s a very stupid rule,” Ron said. “This is fucking summer camp. Fun should be a factor at some point.”

“It’s hard to believe you’re not more popular if you’re handing out candy bars to help pack up the range,” Lip said as he grabbed the stack of newspapers to spread out on the tables.

“That’s because I don’t,” Ron said. “Yet anyway Grant helped me do it today. I guess Webster and Liebgott are not to be taken in large doses.”

“I guess I’ll find out tomorrow,” Carwood commented as he spread out the newspapers.

“I suppose I could help you with this since I’m about to be in your way,” Ron said, looking around.

“It’s ok, I’m trying to take my time. Don’t want to get back to the room to early.”

Ron looked confused for a second, but then it seemed to dawn on him. “Oh I see, thanks for taking one for the team there. Nix has been a bit surly lately.”

“I kinda feel like I crashed the party. I mean, they had this whole thing worked out and then hey.”

“You could stay in our cabin.”

Now it was Carwood’s turn for confusion. “Pretty sure your cabin is full.”

“I haven’t seen Dike since I got here, the sheets are still sitting folded on his bed. The only reason I know he’s here is because I hear the kids complaining that he managed to suck the life out driving an ATV through the woods.”

Carwood paused. “What are they saying about crafts?”

“Don’t worry, they like you.” Ron’s smile was all teeth and Carwood found himself drawn to it. “I think Luz has decided he wants to grow up just like you.” He paused for a moment before looking at Carwood. “I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to like you, Lip.”

Carwood shifted a bit because he couldn’t actually remember hearing Ron compliment someone before. It was jarring in way Carwood didn’t want to spend a lot of time examining.

“So what do you say, we’ll make the bed, drink the some beer, and you can take your turn losing to Buck at darts?” Ron stood up so that Carwood could set up the table he’d been sitting on.

“I don’t drink,” Carwood said, shaking his head.

“That still leaves darts and bed sheets on the table. No one is going to complain that you won’t drink our beer.”

“Alright,” Carwood conceded, knowing that if Ron kept smiling at him, he would probably end up surrendering on the beer too. 

“Perfect! You know, since it’s your first time, Buck will probably try and play left handed. Don’t be fooled though, it’s all a clever ploy to lure you in before he pounces.”

Endearing, Carwood decided later as he walked with Ron back to his cabin. It was definitely endearing.


	3. Three

Nix woke up to the sound of cabin doors opening, the shrill squeak of the screen causing him to bury his head further into the pillow. He groaned and rolled over to see Lip leaning over his footlocker, pulling out a change of clothes. His eyes traveled over to his bed to see that it was still made.

"Are you just getting back?"

Lip looked around the room as if searching for another source of Nix's interest. "Uh, yeah. You know we have be at breakfast in ten minutes right?"

"Don't change the subject." Nix sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. "Where did you sleep last night?"

"Didn't you enjoy the privacy?" Lip's smile said he already knew the answer to that question.

"Twice but that's still not an answer."

"Just next door. They haven't seen Dike since they got here."

"Wow," Nix said. "Ron doesn't waste any time does he?"

Lip gave him a perplexed look.

"Ok fine, play dumb."

"I'm not playing anything," Lip said. "We played darts. I don't know how this goes in your head but nothing happened."

Nix sighed. He'd watched this whole scene play out before, even been a part of it himself. Lip knew whatever was going on, and that whatever happens, it won't end well. Mostly because Boston and wherever the hell in West Virginia Lip is from are not exactly close. So for right this second you share the same space, the same schedule, but you won't for long. Soon you'll be home back to whatever you left behind and so will the other person. That's what kills you. You no longer know what they are doing every second of the day. And you don’t get to be with them while they do it. Mostly what you hate is that you don't know who they are with. The not knowing eats at you and then the self-doubt creeps in. It reminds you that you don't think you’re are good enough, that the other person can do better. When it gets really bad, you convince yourself that they already have.

Nix wanted to tell Lip that it will be ok, because he did it with Dick. There's a big difference between the situations though, and that is Ron. There are days that, honest to god, Nix wonders if Ron even likes people. He also doesn't have the heart to tell Lip that he's more than a little surprised that Ron didn't settle on Grant. Since the kid's legal now, Nix was pretty sure this would be the summer. That kid had followed Ron like a lost puppy from the second he got here. There are sometimes he's so like Ron it's a little frightening. So the first time Nix saw Ron stalking after Lip, he'd been more the a little surprised. Lip is nice guy, but there seemed to be no edge to him, no hidden depths. Nix couldn't quite figure out what was drawing Ron in, or how long it might continue. Perhaps Lip wondered that too.

When he looked at Lip, he knew he didn't have to say anything because Lip knows. He knows distance will bite them. He knows Ron's shortcomings. He knows how everyone looks at the two of them. Lip knows, he doesn't need Nix to say it. He can see Lip trying to shove it down. Trying to feel nothing; Ron's probably doing better at that.

Nix likes Ron, that wasn't the problem, but Nix wanted different things out of him. He wanted someone with the ability to smuggle beer into camp, who knew the good stuff when he saw it, and would give him a fair price. Lip wanted someone who would remember his birthday, get along with his mother, and put in some effort. Lip wanted a boyfriend, while Nix's requirements were closer to the kind you'd have of a drug dealer. In Nix's opinion, if you could be considered good at the one, you were probably bad at the other.

"I'm going to supervise breakfast," Lip said as he pulled a clean shirt over his head. "Is that something you do?"

"Nah, Dick knows better than to expect me at breakfast," Nix said. "Are you going to see Ron again?"

"Yeah," Lip said. "He has to supervise breakfast."

"That's not what I meant," Nix said.

"Whatever you think is happening here, I promise it's not," Lip said as he pushed the cabin door opened and headed to breakfast.

Nix sighed and threw the covers back. The denial stage was the hardest to watch. 

*~*

“So they aren’t true?”

Webster sighed. Joe was walking next to Grant, hands in his pockets. He was trying to seem casually interested, but he tell in the way he watched Grant for a reaction, that Joe was deeply interested. Why he cared whether the rumors about counselor Speirs were true or not, Webster could only guess. 

“I didn’t say that,” Grant said. He didn’t look at Joe when he said it. In fact, Grant had been pretty good at giving Joe nothing that would neither confirm nor deny his suspicions.

“So they are true?”

“Give it a rest, Joe,” Webster said. “He’s not going to tell you. At this point, he’s not just playing hard to get.”

“Fuck you, Web. I’d like to know if I’m going to get shot at today,” Joe said, glaring over his shoulder.

The glare was pretty much Joe’s default expression whenever he looked at Web. No matter how many times Webster saw Joe’s face twist into something nasty, it didn’t hurt any less that Joe was dead set against being his friend.

“Guess that’s the difference. I don’t care if you get shot,” Webster snapped, bitter and angry. He knew he shouldn’t have said it. He didn’t mean it, but Joe just brought that out in him.

Joe turned back around, stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, and walked a little faster putting space between himself and the group.

“Jesus Christ,” Webster swore.

“Too far Web,” Grant said as if it should have been obvious.

Hoob, the traitor, nodded his head in agreement. “Kinda crossed a line.”

“How the fuck does everyone else seem to know where this line is? It’s invisible, in a different places with every person, and I swear to fucking God, mine keeps moving.”

They both just shrugged.

“I want to thank you both for being so incredibly helpful right now,” Webster said shaking his head.

They walked in silence the rest of the way up the hill. When they get to the top, Web noticed there was another group waiting. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Joe hadn’t joined them.

“Hey Bull,” Grant said as they walked up.

“What the hell do you think Winters was thinkin’ when he made us cabin leaders?” the other boy responded.

Webster believed if you looked up the phrase ‘built like a house’ in the urban dictionary, Bull’s picture would accompany the definition.

“Because his options were so vast,” Grant said.

“Boys, this is Charles Grant,” Bull said and Webster wasn’t really surprised it had taken him this long to learn Grant’s first name. “You need anything and you can’t find me, Grant will put you right.”

“This is Bull Randlemen,” Grant nodded in Bull’s direction. “And if you can’t find me, I’d look a little harder before you go running to Bull.”

They both started laughing, the ease of old friends falling back into step was evident.  
Shaking his head, Bull turned to the boys standing next to him. “Perco, Shifty, and Popeye.”

Standing next to Bull, the boys still looked quite young, but it was hard to judge with Bull towering over them. Anyone one that stood next to him would look baby faced and young for their age. Perco had dark hair, a scar that cut through his left eyebrow, and seemed to pay particular attention to any advice Bull gave them. Shifty lived up to his name. He looked like a nervous deer, standing there ready to bolt at the first loud noise. He also seemed to be the only one that had any standards of personal grooming. Unlike the others, Shifty’s hair was neatly combed and seemed gelled in place. Popeye, who looked to be on the receiving end of receding hair line, stood next to Bull with a smirk on his face that promised no end of trouble. Webster knew he’d probably wouldn’t learn their real names before the end of the summer.

Grant nodded, “Hoob, Webster, and Liebgott.”

“Good morning, gentlemen.”

Webster watched as all the heads snapped in Speirs’ direction and was once again impressed that Speirs could bend intimidation to his will and make it follow him around. He held their attention all though a safety lecture before lining them up next to a quiver of arrows that was staked into the ground. He handed out bows and then proceeded to watch them take their first shot. The targets they were shooting at contained white, black, blue, red, and yellow circles that got progressively smaller. The rings were divided in half by a black line, except the yellow which was divided into thirds. The targets were mounted on hay bales.

Grant went first and there was an unnatural ease to his movements, as if Speirs breathing down his neck was something he’d not only become used to, but learned to ignore. When he let loose the arrow, it hit the innermost red circle.

Speirs made a considering noise.

Grant turned to look at him. “What? I’m out of practice. If you could take your barely concealed disappointment somewhere else that would be super.”

Speirs smiled, and Webster couldn’t figure out whether that was disturbing or not.  
Joe went next and his arrow almost didn’t make it into the first white ring. Speirs made a disgruntled noise. He pushed his foot against Joe’s until he moved it forward, and then pushed at his other foot until Joe moved it as well. Seeming satisfied, Speirs nodded down the range. Joe notched another arrow and it hit inside the blue circle.

“Better,” Speirs said nodding before turning to Webster.

Webster could never remember being more nervous in his life. He took a deep breath and loosed. His arrow landed in the black.

“You hold your shoulders funny,” Speirs said, before turning to Hoob. What that meant Webster could only guess.

Webster watched as the color drained from Hoob’s face. He took a deep breath, his fingers shaking as he picked up the arrow. 

“Relax Hoob,” Grant said. “You can’t be any worse than these two.”

Hoob smiled, notched the arrow and put it right inside the first yellow circle.

“Motherfucker,” Joe swore.

“Nice shoot, Hoob,” Speirs said.

“Easily my favorite right now,” Grant said, pointing to Hoob.

For his part, Hoob just smiled, as if it was no great surprise at all.

Speirs shook his head before turning to Shifty. Webster had expected Shifty to be nervous, to shake the way Hoob had. Gone was the look of Bambi staring down a transport truck. In its place was a quiet confidence that seemed well deserved when he sent an arrow dead center into the target.

“Jesus Christ.” Grant sounded truly surprised as if he’d never seen anything like it.

“Shifty, my boy,” Bull said, clapping Shifty on the shoulder. “Excellent shot. Way to do the cabin proud.” 

Unlike Hoob though, Shifty seemed uncomfortable under the praise. “No, no. I’m not a good shot. Now dad, he is an excellent shot. Excellent, I declare he could shoot the wings off a fly.”

“Well Bull,” Speirs said. “I’ll let you tell Winters the good news.”

When Shifty looked confused, Bull clarified. “Paintball, Shifty. You’re gonna do this camp proud at paintball.”

Webster watched as Shifty nodded, seeming to take the compliment as an order. Webster was confident it was one he could easily fulfill.

*~*

By the time Carwood headed up the hill for lunch, he was sure of three things. One: Hoob would never win any award for humility. Two: Shifty Powers was the best archer anyone had ever seen. And finally: Charles Grant had the patience of a saint and if he made it through the whole summer without killing Web or Lieb, he should be canonized. If he managed all that, it couldn’t be that hard to find another miracle.

When he finally finished his morning session, Lip was really looking forward to his lunch break. Since he supervised breakfast with Ron and Buck, he didn’t have to supervise lunch. He walked into the multipurpose room to pick up his lunch sack with his name on it. He was about to leave when he noticed the sack that had been next to it with ‘Speirs’ written on it in black marker. Fuck it, Carwood thought as he grabbed the sack. The fresh air would do him good for if he spent too much time in the craft room, he wouldn’t have enough brain cells to finish school. And if he over stepped, he was pretty sure that with his usual directness, Ron would let him know. When he topped the hill, Ron was lying in the grass, arms behind his head with a navy baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“Hey Lip,” he said as Carwood approached.

“I’m not even going to ask how you knew it was me.” Carwood set the sack containing Speirs’ lunch on his chest.

Speirs made a confused noise before lifting the cap so he could see. “You spoil me.”  
Carwood smiled as he opened his sack.

Ron gave a disgusted sigh. “Carrot sticks.”

Lip watched as Ron removed the offending vegetables from the plastic bag and tossed them over his shoulder. “Something out here will eat them. Do you want chips? I have some in the shed.”

“Sure,” Lip said shaking his head, not really surprised since the cabin last night had been filled with items that would be considered contraband.

“Regular or Barbeque?” Ron asked as he got up.

“Regular.”

“Good choice, I wanted the barbeque,” Ron called back over his shoulder. “Do you want a beer?”

“I’m good.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually,” Ron said when he came back over tossing a bag of chips next to Carwood’s leg. Carwood was also surprised to see him return with two water bottles. “So how was your morning?”

“Probably about the same as yours,” Carwood said, tearing a mustard packet open with his teeth.

“Yeah, god help us if Joe figures out whether he wants to fight him or fuck him.” Ron pulled open his chips.

Carwood laughed because he couldn’t help it. “Web’s screwed.”

“Pretty sure that’s the plan,” Ron deadpanned as he unwrapped his sandwich.

“Jesus,” Carwood said around a mouth full of giggles.

“What?” Ron said. “If he were going to kill him, he’d have done it already.”

Carwood had to admit he had a point. Carwood also tried not to read too much into the fact that every time a homosexual relationship came up in conversation, Ron treated it with casual indifference. Though he seemed to treat most things that way, Carwood wondered what he might be passionate about. “Grant and Bull were talking about paintball?”

“There’s a tournament with three other camps at the end of the summer,” Ron said around a mouth full of sandwich. “We got our asses handed to us last year because someone in their infinite wisdom put Sobel in charge of our strategy. Winters is running the show this year so we’ll actually be competitive.”

“Great,” Carwood said, knowing he didn’t sound excited, but he wasn’t so there really wasn’t any reason to fake it. Especially not with Ron, who had somehow managed to create a space free of judgment.

“Not a fan?” Ron tilted his head, looking confused.

“I’ve never done it, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to embarrass the crap out of myself.” Carwood was still halfway expecting Ron to laugh at him but he didn’t and for that Carwood was grateful.

“I’ll teach you,” Ron said. “No one comes up this hill willingly so no need to be embarrassed.”

A warm feeling spread through Carwood at the ease which Ron offered. At the same time, it made him sad that Ron had become so casual about being excluded from most things. He wondered if it happened all once, if one day Ron just decided to stop allowing it to affect him. That seemed like something Ron could do. Or if it happened slowly over time, each wound drawing him further in on himself. Carwood wasn’t sure which was worse. 

“You’re going to have to patient with me. Luz complains that that’s not one of your strong suits.” He tried for humor but he knew when he heard himself that he’d missed.

“I don’t like him, I like you,” Ron said in such a matter of fact fashion that Carwood felt his cheeks warm. “Besides, what else am I going to do in the afternoon?”

“It looked like you had a pretty decent nap going.”

Ron shrugged, “This will be more fun.”

“You say that now…”

“I’ll say that later too,” Ron declared cutting him off.

“Ok,” Carwood agreed.

“Great,” Ron said, hopping up. “I’ll get the guns.”

Carwood dragged his teeth across his bottom lip. Maybe the whole thing would be worth it if this was something Ron got excited about. Though since Carwood had seen that look on his face the night before too, he wasn’t entirely sure the excitement was due to paintball.

*~*

_Dear Mama,_

_We finished our first rotation though all our activities today. I think my favorite is swimming; Counselor Winters is really nice and he gives out prizes for the race winners. I haven’t won anything yet but I came in second yesterday, so I could. I like archery and crafts. Not because of what we do but because we have them with cabin one. Though I am making you a bird house. I think it will be the same color as the metal table when it’s finished. Counselor Lipton says he’s sure you’ll love it and when he said it to me I think he really meant it. I’m pretty sure he lies sometimes to spare the boys’ feelings. I’m bad at archery, but Muck, my cabin leader, says that I’ll get better with practice. I think he’s just trying to be nice. Counselor Speirs keeps moving my feet and I’m not sure what that’s supposed to do, but it doesn’t seem to be helping._

“Writing Mama Roe?” Malarkey asked from over on his bed, his face buried in a tattered paperback.

Roe looked over and nodded.

“You’re a good son,” Muck said, patting his head before he walked out of the cabin, probably in search of a shower or Penkala. Whichever he found first.

_I’m better at baseball, but we are on a team with group four and they are very competitive. I got on base yesterday, though the inning ended before anything came of it. The other team seems to have more fun. Counselor Compton said we might mix up the teams and I hope we do. Some of the older boys want it mixed so it might happen._

“Have you mentioned me yet?” Babe asked from where he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the footboard of Roe’s bed, playing gin rummy with Bill.

“You want that card,” Roe said, looking up.

“I what?” Babe said. “Oh, yeah I do.”

“Babe focus on the fucking cards, it’s not that fuckin’ difficult. Roe can do it and write his Ma,” Bill snapped.

_I’ve been told to inform you not to worry, that I have made one friend. His name is Babe. Well, his name is Edward but his cabin calls him Babe and he told me to call him that too. He’s from Philly. He’s been nagging me to write you so you wouldn’t worry about me making friends. He says I can keep looking for better friends but I like him. We met at breakfast, he’s the only first year in cabin one and I’m the only one in cabin three. He sort of declared himself my friend, though I’m ok with that. He’s nice and he tells funny jokes. He’s better at archery so he’s helping me. I think it might be hopeless. He sucks at cards though._

“You don’t want that.”

“But...”

“No.”

“Fine.”

_We are attempting to teach him gin rummy, progress is slow. He seems to have trouble paying attention. We have all our meals together. The food here is…_

Roe bit his lip searching for the right word.

_...questionable. The older boys warn me off the things that aren’t very good though so it’s my understanding that it could be a lot worse._

“Gene, how do I total this?” Babe asked, holding his cards up for Roe to see.

Roe looked up at the cards in Babe’s hands. “You’re giving him these two, since they are face cards. They are ten each for a total of twenty.”

“And that, boys, is out on the first column,” Bill said with relish.

“Yeah good for you Bill,” Malarkey said. “You just beat a kid who learned this game yesterday. You should be so proud.”

“Don’t worry, you still have two more columns,” Roe said over Babe’s shoulder while Bill and Malarkey argued. “And since he won, you’ll get dealt eleven cards.”

_I miss you but I’m having more fun than I thought I would. The boys I share my cabin with are nice. They all call me Roe. I thought you’d like that. Muck is a good cabin leader. He knows A LOT and he helped me hide the M &Ms you sent. Penkala seems to be Muck’s best friend, and he’s nice too. He doesn’t think we’ll win the most cared for cabin of the camp, though Muck’s finally gotten him to stop saying it out loud. We don’t need the negative energy. Malarkey is also really helpful. I feel bad for him because I think Muck and Penkala leave him out without meaning to. He wants to be a cabin leader next year and I think he’d be good at it. I hope I’m in his cabin next year, maybe Babe will be too._

“Ok Gene, what am I tossing?” Babe said, holding up his cards.

“Hey! I’m not playing both of you,” Bill groaned.

“But I thought you were a rummy master,” Malarkey said. “Some master if he’s scared off by a couple of fourteen year olds.”

“Fifteen,” both Babe and Roe said in unison.

“My bad, fifteen.” Malarkey held up his hands in surrender.

“Toss the queen,” Roe pointed to the queen of spades Babe was holding. “She doesn’t go with anything and she’s worth ten points if you get stuck holding her.”

_Babe has told me to tell you I’m coming back next year and you’re supposed to drag me up here if I resist. I won’t, I do think I’d like to be here next summer. Well, as long as Babe is here too._

_Love Eugene_

“Babe, what kind of candy do you like?” Roe asked, remembering what his mother had told him.

“Chocolate and peanut butter. I’m a simple man,” Babe said as he reorganized his hand.

“Why?”

“Don’t even think about touching that seven,” Roe said.

“So bossy,” Babe said, but Roe could tell he was kidding.

_P.S. Babe likes chocolate and peanut butter._


	4. Four

“You’re need to wake up, Nix.” It was Lip, which meant he wouldn’t do anything drastic so Nix could probably go back to sleep.

“Idontwanna,” Nix moaned, pulling his pillow closer.

“Nobody wants to but we all have to be there, on a fuckin’ Sunday no less.” That was Harry, so it was probably better if he got up. That fucker didn’t play fair. Nix sat up and rubbed his hands over his face before something dawned on him. Sunday.

“Fuck, it’s zombie day.”

There weren’t any activities on Sunday morning, the time was reserved for religious services most boys slept though. Well, every Sunday but one, Zombie Day. On Zombie Day, after services and before lunch, the whole camp got together for orientation.

“Yep, happy anniversary,” Harry said. “You did remember didn’t you?”

“Fuck you, I remembered. I have plans and goals, I just lost the date for a second,” Nix said before rounding on Lip. “You will need to sleep somewhere else tonight.”

While zombie day wasn’t technically their anniversary, it was still the day he met Dick running down a hill trying to get to the swim area before the bigger kids.

“I didn’t sleep here last night,” Lip said. “Jesus if I was kidnaped, the trail would be cold before one of you noticed.”

“No,” Harry drew out the o. “But Sparky would notice right away.”

Lip threw a pair of socks at Harry’s head.

“No, I’m pretty sure he’d be doing the kidnaping,” Nix said as he grabbed his stuff and headed out the door. He showered, tossed his clothes back in the general direction of his bed, and took off for the multipurpose room. Dick was already setting up the water guns and bandanas.

“Morning, honey,” Nix said when he reached the tables.

Dick grinned and shook his head. “Good morning dear. You’re up awfully early.”

“Big plans today,” Nix said.

“Is that a question or a warning that you’ve been scheming?”

“The second one. I already convinced Lip to find other lodging for the evening,” Nix said, grinning as the other counselors and campers started to line up. “Have fun ringing in Zombie day.”

Dick shook his head and as Nix walked over to join his fellow counselors, he could tell by the set of his shoulders he was fighting off a laugh.

“Good morning boys,” Dick said, slipping back into camp leader mode, something Nix found incredibly attractive. “Some of you already know what today is, but for those of you who don’t, the first Sunday of the summer kicks off a game we like to call Humans vs. Zombies.”

Some cheers went up from the older boys and the younger boys looked around excitedly. The word zombies always got the attention of a crowd.

“Before you leave today, every camper and counselor will need to collect a bandana and a water gun,” Dick continued. “Now, there are places on this camp that are safe. Inside any of the buildings are safe including cabins, showers, and the latrines. Also the yellow flagged areas are archery, the lake and inside the baseball field fence when activities are in progress. After the activities are over, they are fair game. You all start as humans, so you wear your bandanas around your wrist. You will be armed with water pistols. If you hit a zombie, he is unable to move until the water dries.”

“Which, in this heat, is an unspecific science, so I’d run fast,” Buck said.

Dick laughed. “This is true. You become a zombie when you are tagged by a zombie. You must then tie your bandana around your head where it can be seen before you are allowed to start tagging. You will also need to turn in your pistol to the nearest counselor. Counselors can be tagged and can tag outside of the safe areas. And a tag is just that a firm touch, so you don’t have to bring them to the ground.”

 

Nix couldn’t help but notice that the only person in group one still making eye contact with Dick was Babe. The rest of them could be be described as cagey.

“The last human standing wins the prize. I believe we have a large bag of chips and a two liter pop this year. The original zombie is already out there and he is coming for you…”

“Fuck, it’s Speirs!” Someone from the crowd Nix couldn’t place swore.

“Make a single file line to collect your bandana and your pistol,” Dick finished and stepped out of the way of the surge of campers that came forward.

“Jesus,” Nix said to Martin. “He made Speirs patient zero?”

“Yeah well, if the kids have to hate someone for knocking them out of the game, might as well be the one they already hate,” Martin said with a shrug. “Besides, do you know anyone that would have more fun with it?”

“That’s what worries me,” Nix said as he walked over to Dick.

“So big plans after this,” Nix asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, we have to supervise lunch,” Dick said.

So later then, Nix could work with later. Later, Nix would find himself slammed up against the door to their cabin with Dick’s lips pressed against his. They would barely separate to undress, trying to keep their mouths connected as clothes were thrown all over the room. Later, Dick would map his way down Nix’s bare chest with licks, kisses and bites. Eventually they’d remember they had a perfectly nice bed and stumble their way there. Nix would work hard for the upper hand, because he knew they had the room to themselves and that called for a blow job. Because Nix was good at them, because it was almost their anniversary, but mostly because Nix got untold amounts of pleasure out of the way they made Dick sound. The way he would gasp when he starts with slow licks, the way he would moan when Nix would finally start working Dick’s cock down his throat, and the way Dick would say his name. He lived for that alone. He’d wouldn’t let Dick finish that way because they’d have bigger things to get to. Later, Dick would prep him slowly, but that would be the last slow thing they did. Later, they would have headboard grabbing, screaming, slamming, ‘oh fuck faster’, and harder sex. Nix ideally would be a little sore in the morning. Later, Dick would stroke him off while he fucked into Nix. Later, Nix would hear that sexy voice moan as things went fast and harder. There would be shudders, shouts, and a pair of glorious orgasms. Later, Dick would collapse onto him and kiss his neck. Later, they would enjoy the feeling of lying there together as close as they could be, the room around them reeking of sex. The only the sounds would be their heavy breathing and pounding heartbeats.

Later.

Yeah, Nix could work with later.

*~*

Carwood was a little surprised that no one had heard from Ron during the course of the day Sunday. What surprised him even more was that he managed to get all of his prep work for Monday done without anyone picking the lock to craft room. Ever since that first night Ron had strolled in there, he seemed to take Lip’s lack of reaction as a standing invitation. Not tonight though, tonight Ron hadn’t stopped by. Carwood was trying really hard not to let that get to him. He was failing miserably.

“Tag,” a voice said as a hand gripped his shoulder.

Carwood jumped. He couldn’t deny it, but to his credit, he did not scream. He spun around to see Ron standing behind him, a bright green bandana tied around his head and a cheshire cat grin on his face.

“Jesus, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Liar.”

“Ok, well, I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it a little, but I didn’t mean to do it,” Ron grinned.

“Where have you been all day?” Carwood said as he untied his bandana from around his wrist. “Creeping around the woods looking for stray campers?”

“No,” Ron laughed. “Amassing an army of darkness is a big job, but it’s not my only job. I had to mow the range. Thought maybe I’d lull them into a false sense of security first. You are actually my first victim.”

“Oh,” Carwood said trying to fold his bandana.

“Why, did you miss me?” Ron asked, taking the bandana from Lip and folding it for him.

“Yeah, it was weird getting my prep work done with no one around to bother me.”

“Well, I won’t let it happen again,” Ron said, indicating Carwood should turn around. He placed the bandana around Carwood’s head and tied it in the back. “There. Welcome to the horde.”

“The horde of two,” Carwood clarified.

“It’s a very selective horde,” Ron said.

Carwood couldn’t help it, he laughed. “So is that the plan then, just turn all the counselors to do your bidding?”

“No,” Ron shook his head. “You were just a crime of opportunity. You’d actually be a pretty poor way to start a horde.”

Carwood’s face must have given something away because Ron continued. “Don’t…not like that, don’t take it like that. You’d feel bad if you knocked a kid out of the game. Sure you’d put on a good show. You’d be ‘oh I just missed you.” Ron’s fingers drifted close to Carwood’s chest but not close enough to touch. “But you wouldn’t actually tag them. You’re a good person.”

Ron sounded almost sad when he finished, as if that cost him something to admit.

“And what are you?”

“Dead inside,” Ron said, the soft tone still coloring his voice.

Carwood didn’t like that. Ron may be a great many things, but heartless wasn’t one of them. So he didn’t like the way that sounded. He didn’t like that Ron said it, or that worse still, someone had allowed him to believe it. So maybe that’s what made him do it. Maybe it was that sad soft way he’d said it that made Carwood Lipton close the distance between them and kiss Ronald Speirs in the middle of the woods after joining the horde.

If he’d any worry about his advances being rejected, Ron dispelled them all when he grabbed the back of Carwood’s shoulders and pulled him closer. Ron’s tongue traced Carwood’s lips. Carwood may have started the kiss, but as Ron’s tongue dueled with his, he could see how one could lose control of it just as quickly. They parted when Carwood lost his footing and almost pulled them both the ground.

“Woah,” Ron said, steadying them. “I got you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Carwood said. “I suppose now is good time to tell you I have to sleep in your cabin again.”

Ron smiled. “Accost me in the woods a couple more times and I’ll let you sleep in my bunk. Hell, if you asked nicely I’d let you do it tonight. With me in it of course.”

“What about your roommates?” Carwood asked.

“Fuck ‘em,” Ron swore before pulling Carwood back into another kiss. Carwood had expected Ron to be an aggressive kisser but he wasn’t. He was patient and thorough, trying to search out all the ways to make Carwood respond. They stumbled again over the uneven ground and when Ron pulled away his smile was almost blinding.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Carwood’s wrist and giving it a tug. “Let’s go in before we break our necks.”

They walked silently through the woods a bit before Carwood spoke. “So what is the plan for amassing an army of darkness?”

“Probably pick off one of the freshmen from my morning group. See, the bigger kids will take off running the second they see me, leaving the freshmen behind. Nothing turns those little angels into steely eyed killers faster than feeling abandoned. Why?” Ron asked.

“Do something for me?” Carwood asked as he stopped walking.

“What?” Ron asked, stopping just ahead of him.

“Make it Heffron. If you are going to choose one, make it Heffron,” Carwood said.

“Why?”

“Just…”

“No,” Ron interrupted. “If you’re going to make me play favorites, you at least have to tell me why.”

“Because Roe’s mom came up to me at orientation and told me he doesn’t have any friends. She told me that she’s worried that her divorce and moving is ruining his life. It’s probably not going to help if you turn him into a zombie. Babe is outgoing and popular, he will bounce back. I don’t think Roe will. I think if everyone spends a week avoiding him, they will forget about him. The worst part is, he’ll let them,” Carwood said.

“Well now I have to turn him,” Ron said.

“Did you not just hear…”

“No look,” Ron said. “If I pick him, he’s going to have spread it and yeah Heffron is the easy mark so he’ll go for him. After that though, they will have to start on the bigger kids. Once they do, the legend of what happened will spread like wildfire. The next time we sit down for a meal, they will be the most talked about kids in camp.”

“If you’re wrong…”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll slip him a s’more kit and let him tell people he stole it from the kitchen. Between the chocolate and the marshmallows, he’ll be the most popular kid for miles.”

Carwood studied Ron for a moment and realized that this was really Ron’s area of expertise. If anyone one knew how to bend this camp’s gossip train in order to craft an impression it was Ron.

“Ok, we’ll do it your way.”

*~*

The next morning at breakfast, Speirs was all anyone could talk about. They’d dressed in a hurry, Muck had them check their guns twice, and then they’d run over to breakfast. When they got there, they noticed that Speirs and Lip were not helping Buck to supervise. Instead they got Martin and Winters. The change had everyone on edge. This was exacerbated by the fact that everyone was still human. Winters congratulated them, but the longer breakfast went on, the more the stories started to travel. It soon became clear that the reason they were all still human was because Speirs didn’t appear to be trying.

“Well it’s freaking me out. So what, he’s just up there waiting for us?”

“I don’t know George. When did I become the oracle of all things Speirs?” Muck rolled his eyes and stabbed his eggs with a bit more force than necessary.

“Well how are you getting up the hill?”

“As fast as I can.”

Roe sat next to Babe and he couldn’t help but shoot nervous looks at him every once in a while. The fact that Muck didn’t have a more elaborate plan concerned Roe somewhat. Muck always seemed to have a plan.

“Yeah Muck and I thought I’d just take it at stroll.” Luz’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Because you are now the zombie expert.” Penkala gave Luz an appeasing look.

“Yeah jackass. Who was last year’s lone survivor?” Luz snapped.

“We can make it,” Babe said, nudging his shoulder. “We know where archery is.”

Roe nodded, appreciating that Babe had said ‘we’.

After breakfast, they checked their guns again and readied themselves to climb the hill. It was eerie. Normally the walk up was filled with chatter. This group had known each other forever and the banter flowed easy. Not today, today there was only silence. They moved together at first, but then they cleared the three line and they saw Speirs. All hell broke loose. Roe felt Babe grab his wrist and pull him to the left.

“Come on this way, we’ll take the long way.”

As they banked left though, it became obvious that they were the ones Speirs wanted.

“Shit.” Roe heard Babe swear.

They continued on their course, Babe running a little bit ahead trying to maneuver them so they weren’t running in a straight line right into a trap. So rather than watching the ground, Roe was watching the back of Babe’s head and that’s probably the reason he tripped over that branch. The impact with the downed limb caused him to stumble and hit the ground. He heard Babe yell, but it was too late because just as he’d gotten his own hands under him he felt another tap his arm. Roe looked up to see Speirs standing over him.

“Here,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let me help you up.”

Speirs was helping him up when Babe came back into view firing his water gun. Roe had just gotten to his feet when Babe clipped Speirs in the shoulder. Speirs looked down at his shoulder and sighed.

“You grazed me?” he said. “I’m little disappointed. I thought you were better than that.” Speirs shook his head and walked off to the range.

“Sorry, I came back too late,” Babe said.

Roe shrugged as he worked the bandana off his wrist. “Not your fault.”

“Feels that way,” Babe sighed as he started doing the same.

Roe stopped about to tie the bandana around his head. “What are you doing?”

“What? You didn’t think I was going to stop hanging out with you just because you were a zombie, did you? So you tag me out and then we can figure out which one of those fuckers up the hill we’re getting next. Fuckin’ left us for dead,” Babe said bitterly as he tied his bandana around his head.

Roe hands trembled as he did the same. Once it was tied, he tapped Babe on the arm. “Ok then,” Babe said turning to walk toward the range.

“Thanks Babe. You’re a good friend.”

“Nah,” Babe shrugged. “I’m just selfish, I don’t want you going off and making new zombie friends.”

Roe smiled and bumped his shoulder into Babe’s. Babe smiled and repeated the gesture.

When they reached the top of the hill, Muck gasped, “Oh no he got the children.”

Malarkey walked over to the pair of them and handed Roe a bottle of sunscreen. “You’re gonna want to put this on your forehead or you’ll end up with a white strip right across the middle of it.”

“Thanks,” Roe said, squeezing some out into his head.

“Here,” Babe said. “I’ll do it so it doesn’t end up in your eyes.” Babe dragged his fingers through the lotion cupped in Roe’s palm and gently rubbed it above and below the bandana. When he was finished, he looked at Roe expectantly. Roe swallowed and squeezed more sunscreen into his hand. As he rubbed the lotion on Babe’s forehead, he tried not to notice the startling blue of Babe’s eyes or how the way that Babe looked at him made him feel. When he finished and wiped the sunscreen on his arm, he half expected everyone to be staring at them, as if everyone would have noticed the way Roe’s feelings for Babe had slipped into something new. No one was looking at them though. Everyone was shooting arrows down the range. Roe’s world had tilted on its axis, be it ever so slightly, and no one had noticed.

“Are you ok?” Babe asked.

Roe nodded.

“Ok let’s see if you can get an arrow on the target. I have a feeling today is the day,” Babe said, clapping his hand on Roe’s shoulder.

*~*

Webster was truly surprised how quickly one activity could change the whole dynamic of the camp. The shift had become apparent at breakfast, watching groups one and three pick at each other. Their normal comradery seemed to have fallen by the wayside.

Grant had just shook his head. “They are playing right into his hand and every man for himself is how he wins this. You have to stick together. You go off one your own, you’ve got no one to watch your back.”

It was even more surprising when they got to crafts and discovered Lip was zombie. Well, at least it was to the three of them. Grant apparently seemed to have considered this a possibility since he lead them around the side of the building. This was something they’d never done before, leaving Bull’s group to fight their way in the front. They all made it though, whether this was due to skill or Lipton’s good graces, Webster could only guess. Though he was pretty sure it more do to the later then the former. All through the hour, he could tell everyone’s mind was on the trip up the hill. When the period was over, Bull’s group bolted, but Grant held them back.

“Let them go first,” he said once again leading them out a side door, even though Lip seemed more interested in clean up.

“You are a very devious man.” Joe actually sounded impressed when he said it.

“Just played the game before,” Grant said as they walked toward the hill. “Don’t run before you have too because I promise he’s faster than you. Don’t follow me because he will. Just get yourselves up the hill.”

“Aww, you’re going to sacrifice yourself for us?” Joe said. “I knew you loved us.”

“Just walk Joe, before I change my mind and leave you for dead,” Grant deadpanned.

“What if they got Bull?” Hoob said with a shudder.

“You don’t have to worry about Randlemen,” Grant said. “He outweighs you so don’t run in a straight line, make quick turns. It’s like Mario kart, Bowser can’t make the sharper turns. So be Mario.”

“Yoshi,” Joe said, raising his hand. “Sorry Hoob, but Grant is clearly the Mario in this group.”

“Luigi,” Hoob said, sticking his tongue out at Joe. “He’s my favorite anyway.”

“Guess that leaves you with Peach,” Joe said, turning to Web.

Webster felt he had to shove Joe just on principle and because defending Peach’s off-roading ability would hardly help his case that he wasn’t the princess in this group. Joe just gave him that grin that made Webster want to punch him.

“So don’t worry about Bull so much, ok?” Grant said.

“Worry about that.” Joe pointed up the hill a fair bit where Speirs was ever so casually leaning against a tree.

“Is now the time to run?” Hoob asked.

“Yeah, that would be now,” Grant said as he took off towards the right and as he predicted, Speirs took off after him.

“Well I’m not waiting around to see if he comes back,” Joe said as he took off running.  
Joe was easily the fastest of the three of them, though it was possible that Webster could have given him a run for his money. Knowing Joe though, he’d take that as a challenge and they’d end up leaving Hoob.

“Shit, the flags!” Joe cried, his arms pin wheeling at his sides. But since Joe was not in possession of anti-lock brakes, the line of flags caught him in the stomach and he fell face first into the ground. “Damn it,” he mumbled.

Webster stopped beside him and stepped on the line of flags, so they wouldn’t clip Joe in the face when he got up, as Hoob hopped over them.

“Thanks, Web,” Joe said, getting to his feet. “I always forget those are there.”

“Here,” Webster said. “You’ve got something.” Webster leaned forward pulling a clump of mud out of Joe’s hair.

“That’s attractive,” Hoob said with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, it’s Joe though, so I doubt anyone would have noticed,” Webster said, wiping his hands on his swim trunks.

“Oh, princess has jokes,” Joe said, giving Webster a shove with a grin.

Webster smiled, pleased that he’d finally been able to avoid crossing that invisible line.

“Is it just me or did that seem strangely personal when Speirs took off after Grant?” Joe asked as they watched Bull’s group run up the hill, Perco chasing after them, bandana tied around his head.

“It’s good strategy?” Hoob questioned. “If he picks off our leader, maybe he thinks that will make it easier to get the rest of us?”

“It was more than that,” Joe said shaking his head.

Webster was inclined to agree with Joe. There was something familiar in the way Grant talked to Speirs, like he knew where all the lines were and how to avoid them. There was also the way Speirs had made a point to intimidate Webster into following Grant’s orders. As if he knew Grant hadn’t yet mastered the skill so Speirs would just do it for him. So Joe probably had a point, but hell if Webster was going to let him know it. Agreeing with him just made him smug. Webster didn’t think he could handle running from zombies and Joe being smug. 

Just then Grant burst into view with Speirs hot on his tail. The distance was short and Grant might have made it had Speirs not jumped forward and grabbed him around the middle, bringing them both crashing to the ground.

“Fucker,” Grant hissed throwing his arm back and contacting Speirs’ side with his fist. “You know I remember very vividly at orientation, Winters saying there won’t be tackling this year.”

“Yeah, I skipped that,” Speirs said, getting up.

“It shows,” Grant said as he worked the knot on his bandana. “Does everyone remember how to get down the hill for lunch since you are going spend the rest of the afternoon running from me?”

“Aww, you wouldn’t turn on your cabin like that,” Bull said, laughter coloring his voice.  
“You bet your ass I am. Perco and I are going to team up and take you all down,” Grant replied as he tied his bandana around his head.

Perco looked like he was fighting the urge to run over and hug Grant, the isolation was clearly getting to him.

“Strangely personal,” Joe said as he walked by Webster, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.


	5. Five

Of all the things Nix had to do, and actually did, supervising lunch was by far the easiest. All he had to do was sit on the cafeteria style tables, his feet resting on the bench and eat his lunch. Every once in a great while, he had to yell at the boys, but for the most part he just sat there. Most of the boys were already here. but since the zombies were out, there were always a few stragglers.

The door flew open to reveal a very unlikely trio. Joe Toye followed by Heffron and Roe, who looked entirely too pleased with themselves. Though Nix figured they had a right since Toye was now a zombie and he hadn’t been at breakfast.

“How the hell did this happen,” Luz cried, gesturing to Joe’s forehead.

“Little fuckers ganged up on me,” Toye said. As he was looked at the first years, it was more pride than anger that he felt. Though they’d never get him to say it out loud.

“You magnificent bastards,” Bill yelled.

“Just for that, I’m coming for you,” Joe said, pointing at Bill.

“Ha, I got more reason to be afraid of these two then I do you,” Bill said.

On the other side of the table Nix was sitting on, Ron made a considering noise. “Seems being a zombie hasn’t hurt Roe’s popularity any. One might even say it’s helped.”

“You’re going to be smug about this for the rest of the summer aren’t you?” Lip asked. Nix couldn’t help but notice that he was sitting next to Ron. Quite close actually as the sleeves of their t-shirts brushed when they moved.

“Bet your ass,” Ron replied before taking a bite out of his apple. “You should also know I didn’t get Heffron. He volunteered after I got Roe. So worry not, Roe has a friend.”

“That’s good,” Lip said nodding.

The dining hall was just settling back down when Grant raced in one of the side doors and sat down next to Ron.

“Something is about happen and you’re going to want to remember where you were when it does,” he said before getting back up and turning in the direction of his table.

“What did you do?” Ron asked, leaning out so he could see around Lip.

“I created a monster.” Grant held up his hands in surrender as he backed up towards his table. You could tell he was fighting back laughter.

So whatever was about to happen, Nix knew it would be good.

They were spared the need for more questions by the main doors flying open. In walked Buck covered from neck to waist in mud. In one hand he was holding the neck of Perconte’s t-shirt and in the other hand was the band on the kid’s shorts. The trouble for Perconte was that he was still wearing these pieces of clothing.

Buck walked right over to Randleman. “Does this belong to you?”

Nix could tell Bull was desperately wishing he didn’t have to claim the kid. “I wish he didn’t.”

Buck sat the kid down on his stomach on the table and walked over. When he sat down, he took off his baseball cap and started tying his bandana around it. Martin stormed over to the table shortly thereafter.

“What the hell were you doing to Perco, you big bully?” Martin slammed a hand down on the table. “I mean Jesus Christ, the kid barely weighs ninety pounds!”

“The little fucker bit me!” Buck cried, turning his right arm to reveal a row of bloody teeth marks.

Martin’s eyes widened.

“Oh Jesus,” Ron said before he dissolved into a fit of laughter and had to lean his head against Lip’s shoulder to keep himself upright. Lip was shaking in an effort not to laugh.

“Yeah it’s really fuckin’ funny,” Buck said, but the words were under cut by the fact that he’d started laughing as well. “What the fuck were you thinkin’ when you turned that kid?”

“I didn’t,” Ron said, trying to get his breathing under control. “Heffron did because the kid took the last of the French toast at breakfast.”

“Well keep an eye on it, Buck and let us know if you need a rabies shot,” Martin said as he walked away, fighting off laughter.

For his part, Nix was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears out of his eyes and Harry was laughing so hard he was wheezing.

“What on earth,” Dick said, walking over to the table. “You all are making more noise than the kids.” You could tell that he was trying to be serious, but mostly he was just dying to know what was going on. Or at least Nix could tell.

“So next year at orientation, we have to cover biting,” Buck said turning his arm over again.

Dick’s eyes grew comically wide and he brought both hands up to cover his mouth before he turned around dissolving into a fit of laughter. He got it together pretty quickly before he went back to walking around the hall.

“Oh my god,” Ron said with a sigh. “Lip, I don’t think Roe can top that.”

“Oh man.” Lip was still trying to get it together. “I don’t think I want him too.”

“Well,” Buck put his hat back on, the neon green not looking awful next to the navy, “I’m going to get my lunch because I fucking earned it today.” 

Nix sighed, got up, and walked over to where Dick was leaning against one of the building’s support beams.

“There are no words,” Dick said still grinning.

“Yeah, I didn’t know the kid had it in him,” Nix said, shaking his head.

They stood there in silence for a moment before Dick asked, “So Speirs and Lipton. When did that happen?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s happening,” Nix said. “As far as I know, Ron has not rounded any significant bases.”

Dick made a considering noise. “But it’s Ron, I doubt we’d have any idea if he had.”

“Really? Because I’m holding out for a marked improvement in personality,” Nix said.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Dick said as he walked off to make another trip around the hall.

*~*

Carwood had just started sweeping the floor when he heard the door to the craft room open. He was still locking the door, Ron still wasn’t deterred, and Carwood still wasn’t surprised.

“Well, Roe and Babe took down Randleman,” Ron said by way of greeting.

“You’re kidding.” Carwood stopped mid-sweep to look at Ron.

“Nope. If you walk by cabin three, it’s all they are talking about.”

Carwood smiled. “You were right, being a zombie did fix his social life.”

“Hey, just because I don’t have one, doesn’t mean they’re a mystery,” Ron said, sitting down on one of the tables, his legs hanging off, swinging back and forth.

Carwood swallowed around the tight feeling he got every time he heard Ron say something self-deprecating.

“You almost done?” he asked.

“Yeah I just have to put papers down on the tables,” Carwood said as he swept towards the side doors so he could just toss the sawdust outside.

“Ok,” Ron said, hopping off the table and grabbing a stack of newspapers and setting to work.

“You don’t have to do that,” Carwood said.

“I know.” Ron didn’t look up from his task.

Carwood returned to his sweeping and the only sounds in the room where the soft swish of his broom and the rustling of newspaper. After a while, Carwood got his focus back and stopped listening for the sound of papers. He’d just tossed the dust pan full of sawdust outside when an arm circled around his waist.

“Are you done now?”

Carwood could practically feel the words spoken against his ear.

“Yeah, can I put the broom up first?”

Ron sighed, but he let go.

Carwood was a little relieved. New relationships always made him nervous, that he might fail to meet some hidden expectation that he didn’t know was there. So while he didn’t have his footing yet in whatever this thing with Ron was, he’d already started calling it a relationship in his head.

He had no sooner put the broom and dust pan away when Ron was on him again, one hand on his face, the other gripping the side of his t-shirt.

“Where did this come from?” he asked, the pad of his thumb tracing over the scar on Carwood’s cheek.

“Car accident.” Carwood was used to the question, though it was normally phrased more along the lines of ‘what happened to your face.’ The difference was one he appreciated.

Carwood also grateful that Ron didn’t ask how or when or what happened. He just leaned forward and pressed his lips to Carwood’s. His tongue traced Carwood’s lips that eagerly opened under Ron’s attention. His hands fisted into the Ron’s t-shirt as Ron pushed them back towards one of the craft tables.

This wasn’t the slow moving of lips this time. This time it was frantic sweeping of lips, tongues, and just the slightest hint of teeth that made Carwood moan. Ron pulled back when he heard the noise and his studying expression made Lipton blush. Ron pulled his own lip between his teeth as his fingers traced the waist of Lipton’s shorts. He tracked the motion of his fingers with his eyes until he reached Carwood’s fly. He popped the button and then looked up at Carwood.

“This ok?” Ron asked.

Carwood nodded. He had no idea what this was, but if it involved Ron’s hand near his pants, he was more then ok with it.

Ron grinned and worked Carwood’s zipper down and followed the action by pulling both the shorts and Carwood’s boxers down with them.

“Shit,” Carwood swore because it’s the craft room, it has windows and he’s not entirely sure that Ron locked the door behind him after breaking in. As he watched Ron sink to his knees in front of him, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. Ron’s lips were soft, and his mouth was warm and inviting and if he hadn’t been pinning Carwood’s hips back against the table, Carwood would have thrust forward. Ron’s tongue was still just as skilled tracing veins, the head of Carwood’s cock and when he pulled back to tongue the slit, Carwood’s hands found Ron’s hair. He knew he pulled too hard on the dark soft strands, but if the humming noise Ron made around his dick was any indication, he didn’t seem to mind. Carwood’s brain was reduced to a series of obscenities and Ron’s name. He had no idea if he was saying this out loud, but then Ron relaxed the muscles of his throat and Carwood’s world went white. Ron worked him through it and Carwood was more than a little impressed that he swallowed.

Ron stood back up, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He had got a smug look on his face and Carwood figured he had a right. Carwood grabbed at Ron’s t-shirt and kissed him. It was not something he’d done before, but there was something erotic about chasing the taste of himself around Ron’s mouth. Without losing too much focus on the kiss, Carwood managed to get Ron’s fly open and his hand inside his pants. He knew the angle sucked and he’d be better at this with a bit more room to work with, but they’re in the craft room, so he made due. Ron’s fingers on Carwood’s hips dug in and Ron broke their kiss to inhale sharply. He leant back, their noses brushing together, foreheads resting against each other’s, and Carwood twisted his wrist.

“Fuck, Lip,” Ron moaned as he spilled over Carwood’s hand. “Fuck,” he whispered again. “You’re sleeping in my bunk tonight.”

Carwood kissed Ron again as he wiped his hand on the newspaper Ron spread on the tables. There’s no point in arguing because there’s no way they can get back to their beds without everyone knowing what they were doing anyway.

*~*

Roe woke up to a clunking noise above his head. When he sat up, he noticed that all his roommates were still fast asleep. Then he heard the noise again, definitely from behind him. He leaned over his headboard and pulled back the shade. Outside his window, Babe was standing there in a t-shirt and gym shorts with his bandana around his forehead. He was gesturing wildly for Roe to come outside. Roe sighed and dragged a hand across his face, but he didn’t think for a second about going back to sleep. Instead he got up, grabbed his shoes, and headed out to meet Babe. He was sitting on the stairs pulling his shoes on when Babe rounded the corner of the cabin.

“Did you sleep with that thing on?” Babe asked, pointing to his own forehead.

“What?” Roe’s hand went to his forehead where his fingers touched the fabric of his bandana that he’d forgotten was there. “Yeah I guess so.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Babe blurted out if as he understood that it was a little weird that he’d dragged Roe out of his bed in the middle of the night.

“It’s ok,” Roe said around a yawn.

“Want to go for a walk?” Babe asked.

Roe just shrugged his shoulders and followed after Babe. It never occurred to him to ask where they were going. As they walked in silence, Roe with his hands in the pockets of his sleep pants, it soon became obvious that they were heading to the lake. After a few more minutes, Roe had figured out that they were heading to the boat docks.

“Bill says if we’re going to sneak out, we have to head away from the main part of camp so Sobel doesn’t catch us,” Babe said as if sensing a question Roe was about to ask. “I don’t want to try and take a boat out or anything.”

Roe didn’t really want to try it either but if Babe had asked, he’d have given it his best shot.

“I’m being pretty stupid really,” Babe said. “For some reason I woke up and I just felt really homesick. It’s stupid, I must have had some bad dream or something.”

“It’s not stupid,” Roe said. He felt like he needed to say it out loud since Babe had said it twice.

“I knew you wouldn’t laugh at me.”

“Never.”

Babe bumped his shoulder into Roe’s and as he did every time, Roe returned the gesture.

“The other guys probably would have laughed,” Babe said.

“Well the other guys are jerks,” Roe said.

“Oh that’s strong stuff coming from you.”

“I’m tired,” Roe said as they walked into the boat dock.

“Sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s ok, you’d have done it if I woke up missing my mama.” Roe sat down on the edge of the dock and pulled off his shoes and socks. Babe joined him as Roe was rolling up his sleep pants so he could put his feet in the water. After a moment, Babe’s feet joined him.

“Do you miss her?”

“Mostly just in the morning when I wake up. She wakes me up for school and church. It’s weird getting up on my own. Muck’s funny but…”

“It’s not the same,” Babe finished for him.

Roe nodded, glad Babe had stopped him before he’d said something truly embarrassing. Like ‘I don’t miss her during the day because I have you.’ But Roe thought it and maybe that counted for something.

“It’s weird going to bed without the rest of the family,” Babe said. “It’s not like they tuck me in or anything. But my parents still do that for my sister and I’ll read her story. Getting ready for bed and going to bed without any fanfare just seems lonely.” 

Roe nodded. “I always wondered what that was like, having siblings.”

“Mostly it’s a pain in the ass, so maybe you’re lucky there, Gene.”

“Yeah, but you have people in your house all the time,” Roe said, turning to look at Babe. “When my parents were at work, I was all by myself. That gets old after a while.”

Babe’s eyebrows drew together and his teeth pulled at his bottom lip. Roe was about to say something because Babe looked genuinely distressed when Babe reach out his hands and cupped Roe’s face. Before Roe could really process what was going on, Babe leaned in and kissed him. It was just a press of lips and then Babe was pulling back.

"I'm not really sure what happened there. Well, I mean I know what happened, I kissed you. But I feel like I should apologize if you didn't want me too. Unless you want me to, cuz then I want to do again. Properly.” Babe stammered.

Roe leaned back towards Babe, not really sure how to ask for something like that. Like always though, when Roe didn’t have the words Babe understood anyway. Babe closed the distance between them. Roe had never really been kissed by anyone before, but he knew enough to know that he had to move his lips. He was also mentally prepared for Babe’s tongue, but that didn’t stop him from sliding closer as it traced his lips. Babe’s arm wrapped around his waist and his fingers tightened when Roe moved his tongue against his. Roe was just getting the courage to move his own hands from where they had a white knuckle grip on the boat dock when something thumped up against it causing them to break apart. Roe turned toward the sound to see Counselor Welsh pulling himself out of the kayak he’d tied off.

“Well boys,” he said as he got up. “This is awkward. Why don’t we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Ok,” Babe said as Roe nodded.

“Alright then, enjoy your evening,” he said as he walked down the dock.

It was then that Roe had an idea, so he got up and followed after the counselor.  
“Counselor Welsh,” he said.

“Yeah,” the man said, turning around.

“Tag,” Roe said, reaching out and tapping the counselor’s arm.

He laughed and Roe was glad because he had thought the counselor would take it in fun.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said. “The guys are going to give me such shit for this, but it will add to the little legend the two of you are forming.” He was still chuckling as he walked down the dock, working the bandana off his wrist.

“Gene, you are like all kinds of awesome right now,” Babe said. At some point he had gotten up and walked over to stand next to Roe.

Roe blushed, but before he could turn away, Babe pulled him in for another kiss.

*~*

_Zombie Apocalypse Day 3_

_My companion and I are holed up in our cabin for fear of venturing out of the quarantine zone. At this time, zombies vastly outnumber humans. This morning they claimed Hoob._

“Do you write all of them like that?”

“Do you maybe want to mind your own fucking business?” Webster said, leaning his body and his journal away from Joe who seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere.

“Do you maybe want to use my name instead of this ‘companion’ bullshit?”

Webster sighed before making an insert symbol and writing Joe. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” Joe said flippantly before sliding back over to the side of the doorway and picking up his Batman comic book again. Graphic novel, Webster corrected. The longer ones were called graphic novels. He’d learned a lot about comics in the last twelve hours. Like Joe’s Daredevil one, this novel had been released by a library. And like the Daredevil one, this one was damaged with little pieces of the cover and first few pages’ corners missing. But at least the cover was still attached to the binding.

“And no, I don’t always write them like this, but I’m bored out of my fucking mind. So I’m trying something new.”

“Yeah, it’s hotter than shit out here. I’d throw you in the lake, but fuck if I’m losing to Shifty after the zombies get you,” Joe said as he turned the page.

“So thoughtful,” Webster replied. He was surprised by how quickly they started calling their fellow campers zombies and treating them as something else. Something to be avoided. Which was why they were hiding out on the porch of the cabin, where safety was just an open door away. But as Grant had so helpfully pointed out when he’d left the cabin, ‘you have to go to dinner sometime.’

He’d sounded more like Speirs in that moment than at any point all summer. It was still slightly off, more like someone unhinged rather than truly evil. But it was a marked improvement. Webster had thought to tell him that, but he figured Grant already knew it.  
Webster sighed again and slammed his journal closed.

“Feel better?” Joe asked, not looking up from Batman.

“Not significantly,” Webster said, stretching his shoulders.

“Damn.”

Webster shook his head and got up.

“Where are you going?” Joe asked, looking up.

“Inside,” Webster said. “Don’t worry your human shield will be back in a moment.”

Joe chuckled and returned his attention to Batman.

Once inside, Webster walked over to Joe’s bed and knelt down in front of it and popped the floorboard. It was still well stocked with packages arriving almost daily from Hoob’s mom once word reached her that they were not allowed sweets. Hoob had told them that he’d share, but it felt wrong to go into his stash while he wasn’t there. More so because Webster still felt a little guilty about losing him on the way to breakfast. Hoob didn’t blame them, it had been carnage out there, but Webster still felt bad. And Joe did too, which had surprised Webster. He also felt a little guilty for thinking that. He’d gotten used to thinking of Hoob as his friend and had forgotten that he had joint custody with Joe. So in the absence of Hoob, Webster fished around in the pillow case until he found one of his Hershey bars from the airport before putting everything back the way he found it.

He walked back outside and sat back down on his side, as he’d come to think of it since that first day drying out with Joe and Hoob, of the door frame. He ripped the wrapper open and as if on cue, Joe said, “Oh, a Hershey Bar!”

Webster sighed and broke the bar in half. Not because Joe expected it, or had even really asked for it. It was because somewhere along the way, while running from zombies or just living with him in general, Webster had started to pick some things up about Joe. The most disturbing of which was that Joe had a problem asking for the things he wanted. Directly anyway. He’d joke about it, make an offhand remark, but to come right out and say it seemed difficult. He didn’t know if someone along the way had made Joe feel like his wants and desires were somehow less important. Which if they had, Webster wanted to punch them because it was bullshit. From a purely intellectual standpoint, everyone’s desires were as valid as anyone else’s. Provided no one got hurt.

Personally though, Webster just didn’t like that it was possible that someone had hurt Joe. He wasn’t even going to begin to analyze why. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Joe didn’t seem to be able to afford graphic novels new. Maybe they had the opposite problem. The way Joe talked about his parents, it was easy to see they loved him dearly. Though judging by the state of Joe’s things, it didn’t seem like they had a lot of money. Whereas Webster’s had plenty of money, but he couldn’t clearly remember the last nice thing his mother had said to him. If that was the case, Webster just felt worse. No amount of punching could fix that.

“You don’t have to,” Joe said.

“I know I don’t. It’s almost time for dinner and if I eat the whole thing, the zombies might get me.”

Joe laughed, “Last meal?”

“Yeah,” Webster said, breaking off one of squares. “I doubt I’ll be a zombie too long though. You and Shifty won’t last that long on your own.”

“Probably not,” Joe said as he chewed the candy bar. “Grant was right, it is easier if you do it together. I don’t know how Luz did it all on his own.”

“You’re assuming Luz was telling you the truth when he told that story,” Webster added.

“You think he’s lying?”

“I think he’s embellishing,” Webster clarified.

“I could see that,” Joe said thoughtfully.

“What I want to know is how Speirs did it,” Webster said. “Because you know he won it, and I’m pretty sure he would have had to do it alone.”

“Well ask Grant when you join the horde, I’m sure he’d know,” Joe said as he got up, dusting off his shorts, his novel in hand. “I’m going to go put this up, then you want to make the run for dinner?”

“Sure, throw this on my bed,” Webster said, holding out his journal. He’d tucked the candy wrapper in it for lack of somewhere else to put it.

“Just this once because I’m not your maid,” Joe replied.

“Yeah because you’re so naturally willing to do things for me,” Webster called through the screen door.

Webster could hear Joe chuckle as he opened his footlocker.

“Ready to do this thing?” Joe asked as he walked back out.

“If one of us gets hit, we go after Shifty first thing,” Webster said, standing up.

Joe nodded. “Deal.” He held out his hand and Webster shook it.

They walked most of the way to the multipurpose room, remembering Grant’s advice about not running before they had too. They didn’t see anyone as they walked through the main part of camp. That wasn’t really surprising since they were late for dinner. As they neared the building, they could see a group of the older boys sitting out front. This meant that their best chance was to make for the side doors before they were seen. It didn’t matter. Those boys were waiting for them and when Webster weaved to get out of Grant’s path, he got way too close to Muck and felt his hand contact his arm. He was thrown off balance and landed on his ass.

“They got me,” he said. Looking ahead, Joe had already made it to the concrete surrounding the building and was safe.

Webster walked over to where Joe was standing. “They got me, can you believe that? Can you believe I said that?”

“Sorry your last human words were a cliché,” Joe said. “It will just be groans and moans from here on out.”

“Embellish for me would you?” Webster asked as he worked on the knotted fabric of his bandana.

“Take out Shifty for me,” Joe replied.

“Shifty?” Grant said. “We took him out this afternoon.”

Joe’s eyes grew wide and Webster had dreaded this moment. Death would be preferable to Joe winning and being smug for the rest of the summer.

“Does that mean I won?”

“Are we out of humans?” Grant said, turning to Speirs as he walked up from wherever he’d been hiding.

“Yeah, if you knocked out one of them,” he said as he opened the door.

“Holy shit, I won,” Joe said.

“Should have known it would be a fucker from four,” Toye said as he walked around the three of them standing there.

“Ignore him,” Grant said loudly enough for Toye to hear. “He’s still pissed he got taken out by a couple of first years.”

Webster was confident that Joe hadn’t even heard him and he was pretty sure he’d never seen Joe’s smile look brighter.


	6. Six

Roe rolled over and punched his pillow, though the reason he wasn’t asleep like the rest of his roommates had nothing to do with the pillow. He’d been restless most of the night. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he had gotten up that morning. It was clear to him now that he didn’t expect everything to be the same. From the night before to now, Babe hadn’t changed at all. He still sat next to Roe at breakfast. He still finished Roe’s milk after Roe had used it for cereal. When they went to archery, Babe continued his efforts to get Roe to put an arrow anywhere near the target. They sat together at crafts, they ate their sack lunches under the tree by cabin one, and Babe had sat with him at dinner. It was all the same and for some reason that bothered Roe. The unfair part was that he couldn’t figure out what he’d wanted instead. If Babe had tried to kiss him while they were around other people, Roe probably would have died of embarrassment. He really wasn’t looking for a lot of attention and he was pretty sure the guys would tease him until he died. He was so busy lying there trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him when the clunking against the window happened it made him jump.

He grabbed his shoes and practically raced out of the cabin. He sat down on the steps and started pulling his shoes on. He had to clench his hands into fists a couple of times to get his fingers to stop shaking. What the hell was he nervous for? This was Babe.

“Hey, Gene.” Roe looked up to see Babe standing in front of him, all lopsided smile and bright blue eyes.

“Hey Babe,” and Roe had barely gotten the words out after standing up before Babe was in his personal space, arm around his waist, kissing him. Roe, much to his dismay, whimpered. He’d just convinced himself that it was probably ok to grab a fistful of Babe’s t-shirt when Babe pulled back.

“I wanted to do that all day,” Babe said, rubbing his nose against Roe’s. Babe was still smiling almost from ear to ear.

“Yeah?” Roe asked, fingers still clutching at Babe’s t-shirt.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d want me to do it in front of people and I almost tried for one at lunch, but I wasn’t sure if you would have let me.”

“I would have let you,” Roe said. He knew he was blushing and he tried to turn away, but Babe followed.

“Good to know.” And then Babe was kissing him again right there in front of cabin three where anyone from the other three cabins could walk out and see them. But as Babe’s tongue invaded his mouth, Roe couldn’t really bring himself to care. It was then that Roe realized that this was what he wanted. It was the thought that it might not be on offer again that had made him crazy. Knowing that Babe had been right there with him made his chest feel lighter.

Babe pulled back again this time and circled his hands around Roe’s wrist. “Come on, we have to get out of here or we’re going to get caught.”

This time as they walked down to the boat dock, Babe held his hand, lacing their fingers and giving Roe’s hand a squeeze. After he did, he’d looked up at Roe silently asking for permission. Roe just leaned and bumped his shoulder into Babe’s. Babe smiled and returned the gesture. When they reached the boat dock, Babe turned into him. This time though, it was Roe who pulled him forward as he backed up against the wall of the dock’s covering. It was a little clumsy at first, his lips didn’t quite move as easily without Babe’s already telling him what to do. He got the hang of it though and when he traced Babe’s lips with his tongue, Babe moaned and pulled him closer. Roe decide that he liked that a lot, knowing that he could affect Babe. Babe’s hands wrapped around his waist and came to rest on the small of his back. When Roe raised his arms to grab the back of Babe’s shoulder, his t-shirt raised with them. This brought Babe’s hands into contact with the bare skin of Roe’s back. When he felt Babe’s fingers on either side of his spine, Roe gasped breaking the kiss.

“Sorry,” Babe said, moving his hands.

“It’s ok.” Roe was breathing like he’d been running a race.

“Ok.” Babe’s hands pushed back under Roe’s t-shirt. “Is this ok?” Roe was about to ask what when he felt Babe’s breath against his neck. Roe’s hand moved to cradle the back of Babe’s head as he sucked open mouthed kisses up his neck.

“Babe,” Roe moaned, his head tilting backwards until it hit the wall of the dock behind him.

“Shit, Gene. Now all I’m going to be thinking about during archery today is if I can kiss you behind your ears with anyone noticing.” Roe could feel Babe’s lips moving against the skin there as he spoke. Roe turned his head to meet Babe’s mouth with his. Roe gripped Babe’s shoulder harder because if he didn’t he was sure he was going to pull Babe’s hair.

Babe’s hands slid further up his back until they were gripping his shoulders. He didn’t ask to take the shirt off, though Roe probably would have let him if he’d asked. Roe’s lips were starting to tingle when Babe pulled back panting, his lips were red. Roe smiled because he did that. Roe’s hand slipped back down from Babe’s head to his shoulder.

“Here,” Babe said as he guided Roe’s arm off his shoulder. He gently took hold of Roe’s wrist and brought Roe’s hand under his t-shirt. “It’s ok.” Roe moved his hand over the smooth planes of Babe’s ribcage, his skin warm beneath Roe’s palm.

“This is pretty new to me too,” Babe whispered, nuzzling his nose along Roe’s.

In response Roe just wrapped his hand around Babe’s back and pulled him back in for another kiss.

For the rest of the day, his lips would be red, puffy, and would tingle.

For the rest of the day, he’d be waiting until he could sneak off with Babe and do it again.

*~*

Webster liked baseball, partly because he liked the sport and partly because Buck treated them like adults without scaring the crap out of them like Speirs did. Baseball was the only activity that the whole camp had together. They were broken up into two teams of eight and Buck played catcher for everyone. It was cabins one and four against cabins two and three. They had switched up the teams this week and truth be told Webster missed cabin three. Muck was everyone’s cheerleader. Even if you completely sucked, he’d tell you that you’d get it next time. Malarkey had been able to instruct Hoob on how to hold a bat in a way that didn’t sound like he was talking to a small child. Penkala seemed to know the most about baseball and he and Grant had managed the team pretty well. Roe was even more talkative around them since they seemed to get him out of his shell and the kid could hit.

Cabin one could have learned a lot from cabin three. Sure Babe was cool and was a lot more outgoing than Roe. Not that that was practically difficult mind you. Luz wasn’t the problem either, he was funny and he gave you pointers without the talking down to you. Web had heard someone say that he wanted to be a counselor next year and Webster thought he’d be good at it. Even if it was a little hard for him to see Luz as an authority figure. 

The problem with cabin one was Toye and Guarnere. Webster was fifteen years old, he was not a child and he was sick and fucking tired of being treated like one. He could tell they were starting to grate on Grant’s last nerve too. Webster had seen Grant’s ‘shut the hell up’ look enough that he could start to see it forming. That was nothing though compared to Joe. The last few days, he’d left the field practically vibrating with anger. The three of them just tried to stay out of his way until dinner and by then he’d have normally shook it off.

Today was shaping up to be one of those days though, where Joe would still be quietly raging behind a comic book for most of the evening. Joe had failed to get on base and the ribbing he’d taken for it had been excessive. It had only gotten worse when ‘prep school’ had managed it. Webster had never hated succeeding at something so much, mostly because he figured Joe would unleash all the bullshit on him when they got back to the cabin. The inning had ended with them scoreless and they had only become surlier when Bull had hammered one over the back wall. It only exacerbated their problems that Bull had brought Muck home as well. While they desperately needed to get off the field so they could score, Webster would rather have walked into traffic then back into the dugout. One look at Grant and Hoob confirmed he was not alone. He was already giving Joe a wide berth. So he’d chosen the innermost corner when they got to the dugout.

When the topic turned to the end of the summer paintball tournament, Webster had been a little relieved because at least that didn’t really involve them.

“I could give rat’s ass who does our strategy,” Luz said, leaning against the door of the dugout watching Babe at bat. “As long as it’s not Sobel, I think we are in the clear.”

“Didn’t we all agree never to talk about last year?” Grant asked, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and index fingers. Webster had first hand knowledge that this meant he was on his last nerve. “Besides, it’s Winters this year.”

“I like Winters, he’s a good man, but when the paintballs start flying I don’t know if I want some Quaker doing my fighting for me,” Bill said, rolling his shoulders back against the dugout wall.

“How could you possibly know that?” Grant asked as he walked by with his bat. He took up Luz’s spot as he went out to bat.

“He ain’t Catholic,” Bill said, getting up off the bench.

“Neither’s Sobel,” Grant said as he left the dugout.

“That prick’s a son of Abraham,” Bill said.

At that moment, several things happened all at once. First, Hoob looked over at Webster with a look of pure panic.

And Joe looked over at Bill and demanded, “He’s what?”

“He’s a Jew,” Bill clarified.

Webster wished for once in his life, Bill would just stop talking.

“Oh fuck,” Joe swore throwing down the baseball he’d been holding and hopped off the bench. He closed the distance between him and Guarnere with a few quick purposeful strides until they were almost nose to nose. “I’m a Jew,” he said as if daring Bill to do something about it.

Webster sighed, he’d really wanted to avoid any violence today.

“Congratulations, get your nose out of my face,” Bill said, putting his hand on Joe’s midsection and guiding him backwards.

Hoob took a visible step back because he knew when Joe was in a mood, the last thing you wanted to do was touch him.

Joe closed the distance again, bringing his right arm up as he came. Bill blocked it with his left arm easily as his right fist contacted the left side of Joe’s face. Joe surged his weight forwards to try and shove Bill back towards the dugout wall. However, Bill absorbed it and shoved Joe back into the chain link wall of the dugout. It rattled when he hit it. Webster heard someone yell ‘shit’ from outside the dugout. Joe managed to push himself off the cinderblock wall below the chain-link, the leverage helping him to shove Bill backwards again.

Grant was the first one though the dugout door. He grabbed Joe around the shoulders and pulled him away from Bill.

“Christ, Lieb. I can’t leave you alone for a second?” he said as he hauled Joe backwards. Without the person he’d been throwing his weight into, Bill lost his balance and fell to the ground.

“Let me go,” Joe snarled, twisting against Grant’s hold.

“If I let you go, you gonna try and hit him again?”

Joe growled and twisted again.

“That’s what I thought,” Grant said, dragging Joe back a little further.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Buck said. Webster noticed that the other cabins were no longer on the field. Buck must have sent them back, while he let Grant handle this.

“I could guess,” Grant said, still fighting to keep a hold of Joe.

“Cabin one get back to your cabin now,” Buck ordered.

When Bill got up, Buck rounded on him, sticking his finger in Bill’s face. “You and I are going to talk about this later.”

Bill ducked his head and followed Toye out of the dugout.

Once they were outside, Grant let go of Joe.

“Did he get you, Liebgott?” Buck asked, his tone evening out a little.

Joe gestured to the left side of his face.

“Yeah, you’re probably going to have a hell of shiner,” Buck said. “Let’s go back to the camp and get you some ice.”

They walked back to the multipurpose room in silence, knowing that they were probably in for no end of shit. It was more than a little obvious that Buck liked group one. Webster walked beside Joe and gave his shoulder a squeeze. Joe didn’t react, but Webster hadn’t expected him to.

Grant looked back over his shoulder. “You know Lieb, if you want the teams changed, all you had to do was ask.”

Buck shook his head. “Two and four, one and three, first thing tomorrow.”

When they reached the multipurpose room, Speirs was standing outside smoking a cigarette.

“What the hell did they do?” he said when they got close enough.

“Liebgott took a swing at Bill,” Buck said.

“You lead with your right, didn’t you?” Speirs gestured at Joe with the two fingers holding his burning cigarette.

Joe’s eyes widened, but he nodded.

“That’s fucked.” Speirs took a drag of the cigarette before he dropped it on the ground and crunched it under his shoe. “Come here.”

“He doesn’t need the encouragement,” Buck said.

“You’re right,” Speirs said. “Kid’s got plenty of that on his own. He needs direction so he doesn’t keep getting his ass kicked.” He walked over to where Joe was standing rooted to the spot. “Let me guess you led with your right, he blocked and you got hit in the face. Sound familiar?”

Joe nodded.

“So next time distract him with your left arm.” Speirs said, bringing up a slow moving fist up on Joe’s right side.

Joe raised his arm and blocked it.

“Then you hit him with your right,” Speirs said, tapping Joe’s chin with the first two fingers on his right hand. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” Joe said.

“Good,” Speirs said, clapping Joe on the shoulder. “Let’s get you some ice.”

Buck just shook his head as he opened the door and they all filed in. “The next fight he gets into, I’m blaming you.”

“Go for it,” Speirs said casually.

The ice machine was locked so Buck had to unlock it while Speirs pulled a gallon bag off the shelf behind them. He held the bag open as Buck scooped ice into it.

“Ten minutes on and then ten off,” Speirs said.

“Because of course you know how to take care of a black eye,” Buck said.

“I’ve had my share,” Speirs shrugged. “You can’t block them all. You want to ice it until this time tomorrow, so get a new one of these when you come in for a meal.”

“With any luck it will be gone by the time you go home,” Buck said, closing the bag and handing it to Joe. “He’s going to need an extra pillow to keep his head elevated.”

“I’ll get him one after dinner,” Grant said.

“Yeah because he’ll want to see out of it in the morning,” Speirs said. “We still have any of those heat packs we used to take on the outdoor campouts?”

“I’ll ask Harry,” Buck said. “You’re going to want to put heat on it tomorrow evening, so come find one of us tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Joe winced as he put the bag over his eye.

“Gently ok?” Buck said as Speirs locked everything back up. “You put too much pressure on it and you’ll make it worse.”

“What happened here?”

Webster’s back went ridged at the sound of a voice he’d only heard once when it explained concept of contraband at their first dinner. He also watched as the same tone caused Speirs to roll his eyes so hard Webster thought they might fall out of his head. Standing in the previously closed doorway to the kitchen was counselor Sobel.

“Ground ball popped up and hit him in the face,” Buck said.

Sobel’s eyes narrowed as if he were trying to determine if it was bullshit. If what Grant said about his hating cabin four was true then he probably assumed it was.

“If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, I’d be happy to bounce a few at your face,” Speirs said. Webster wished he’d been able to see Speirs’ face when he said it, but he’d turned to look at Sobel.

“Why don’t you boys head back to your cabins?” Buck said, turning his back to Sobel. “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour.”

They did has they were told, but not before Webster saw Buck glare at Speirs.

When they got back to the cabin, Webster had expected a lecture. Grant had barely said anything since they left the dugout. That’s not what he got. Grant just came over to where Joe was sitting on his bed and ruffled his hair. “You probably want to take that off now, I’ll let you know when to put in back on.”

Joe took the ice pack off and set it on his leg.

“We’ll wrap it one of my clean towels,” Webster said, getting up to get the extra swim towel he’d packed.

Hoob, who had made straight for the cubby, resurfaced at that moment. “Here Joe, put these on it instead.” Hoob tossed a bag of Hershey kisses next to Joe’s leg.

“Thanks guys,” Joe said, a small half-smile tugging at his lips.

Webster figured that was all any of them had been after.

*~*

Nix was sitting on the steps to their cabin when Dick got back from his meeting. The sun was setting and it was a good night, warm but not stifling. Nix could tell by the way that Dick was walking that he probably hadn’t noticed the weather. He perhaps hadn’t noticed much at all. The problems of camp weighed heavily on Dick. They always had even before he became a counselor, let alone more or less in charge. Right now they had a problem and its name was Norman Dike.

Dike hadn’t been doing any of his assigned camp chores. No one had bothered to mention it when he was just skipping his meals duties because they normally had enough people that no one noticed. The problem was when it started to affect his activities. The ATVs that Dike was responsible for needed regular maintenance and care. They needed to be washed and their tires checked. More importantly, they needed gas. 

This morning while groups one and two were out on their ride through the woods, one of the ATVs had run out gas. Now Luz, showing real counselor potential, had hiked back to get someone to help them since Dike had frozen in the face of a decision. Luz hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d done what was needed. Less happy was Speirs, who’d had to hike out there to fill them up since the camp vans couldn’t be trusted on the hills and everything else with a motor was out there with them. When Speirs got out there, he discovered that all of them were a few feet away from the same fate. Two hours, two groups late for lunch, and one trip to town later, they had it all sorted. The only casualty was any semblance of a good mood that Ronald Speirs might have woken up with. Nix truly felt sorry for Lip.

Now they had another problem. If Sparky ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. Ron’s bad moods descended over the camp like a hurricane. The best advice was to barricade the windows and try to ride them out. Normally this lead to him terrorizing the kids because they were the source of his displeasure. Not this time though, this time his rage was focused and calculated. And somewhat frightening if Nix was honest. Ron seemed to have made it his mission to get rid of Dike. This manifested in stirring up resentment among the other counselors. Of course this wasn’t difficult and he’d found a vocal ally in Buck. And so it began:

“Why the fuck are we the only ones doing anything around here?”

“Where is he? Where does he ever go?”

“Why are his goddamn responsibilities now my problem?”

“He has a real problem with making decisions and that could get a kid hurt.”

“You’re going to put this on me as if I haven’t got enough shit to do?”

“They are out away from camp for hours! Look how long it took Luz to get back here.”

“Oh fuck that. This isn’t even remotely fair and you know it, Dick.”

Now Ron and Buck were one thing. But when you had Lip coming over at lunch to borrow Dick for a moment, you might have to admit you had a problem. Especially when he spun a tale that involved seeing someone, he couldn’t be sure who, taking an ATV for a joy ride. Now Lip had protected the guilty, but Nix suspected it was Malarkey and Muck. Though since they hadn’t been caught, there wasn’t anything they could do about it.

And that was the moment Norman Dike became Nix’s problem because Ron, Buck, and Lip had made it Dick’s problem.

The trouble was that at this point, there was nothing they could do about it. The summer had started. Where they were going to find someone up to the task of being a counselor? It had been suggested that maybe they “should just fucking promote Luz.” That had been the moment that Dick had finally caved and agreed to take the matter to Sink. Because when Speirs suggested without prompting that Luz should not only receive responsibilities, but a leadership position, he’d lost control of the situation. Desperation was clearly starting to creep in.

Judging by the set of Dick shoulders, things had not gone their way. Ron was going to murderous when he found out.

“I tried,” Dick said, sitting down on the stairs next to Nix with a heavy sigh.

They knew it would probably come to this. Whatever powers at be that had gotten Dike his job were most likely invested in him keeping it.

“Well, you tried.” Even as he said it he knew that wasn’t going to be enough for Dick.

“Someone could have gotten hurt,” Dick said. “He’s out there away from the main part of camp, not supervising anyone. Ron said he didn’t even notice Luz had left right away.”

Nix sighed. Dike was a problem and one they couldn’t fix. Nix hated problems like that.

“We’ll give him some extra watching,” Nix said. “If we can make it through the rest of the summer, then we can put in a good word for Luz next year. Outside of that, we’re stuck.”

“Sink actually sat there and gave me a lecture about different leadership styles. Like I’m the one with the problem or Dike has a leadership style.”

“I wish there was something I could do, but I really don’t hold the high ground on actually doing your job around this place.”

“There’s a difference between being lax and losing complete control of the situation,” Dick said, trying to muster up something that looked like a smile. “I don’t worry about the boys when they are out with you, but I’m terrified of what might happen out there with Dike.”

For all of Ron’s attitude, it was Buck that had landed the crushing blow. Ron had chosen an argument about the fairness of what was being asked of them. Buck knew Dick better and Buck knew how to win this. From the moment Buck mentioned that someone could get hurt, Dick hadn’t been able to think of anything else. Life was unfair and somewhere along the line, Dick had learned to live with it, but nothing could be allowed to hurt his boys.

*~*

When Carwood neared the craft room, he was surprised to see Ron sitting by the front door smoking a cigarette. Ron hadn’t been at dinner. With everything that had happened today, Carwood hadn’t really seen much of him. And that bothered him more than it should.  
“Why didn’t you just let yourself in?” Carwood asked when he reached Ron.

Ron shrugged, “I figured if I tried to smoke in there, the whole place might go up.”

“It might.” Carwood sat down next to Ron on the pavement that surrounded the building.  
Ron extended the cigarette in Carwood’s direction.

“I don’t smoke,” he said, shaking his head.

“You don’t drink, you don’t smoke. Tell me Lip, what do you do?”

“I let you jump me in the craft room. That’s about as adventurous as I get.”

Ron laughed before taking another drag of his cigarette. After that they lapsed into silence. Carwood should have known that Ron wasn’t going to seize the opportunity to spill all his thoughts about what had happened the day before, but that didn’t stop him from wishing it would happen anyway. Carwood knew before he sat down that if he was waiting on Ron to talk, he’d be waiting a long time. Still the idea of asking for those feelings made Carwood feel uncomfortable in a way he never was around Ron. Ever since he’d woken up this morning, head pillowed on Ron’s chest, he’d felt a little lost as to what was expected of him now.

“Are going to let me do it again?” The teasing humor was gone from Ron’s voice. It seemed like a genuine question. So at least Carwood wasn’t the only one who didn’t quite have his footing yet.

“So it wasn’t a one off then?” Carwood asked.

“Of course not.” Ron actually sounded offended.

“Don’t say that like I’m supposed to know what you are thinking. I have no idea what you are thinking sometimes. I want to, but that doesn’t mean that I do. I want a lot things and I have no idea if I’m allowed to want them.”

“Like what?”

“I want to wake up with you again. I want to wake up with you in a bigger bed, but I don’t want us to take up any more space than we did last night. But I don’t know if that’s a thing I’m allowed to want. Mostly because you live in Boston and I don’t and I hate that I am the one saying this out loud.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Ron said, snuffing his cigarette out on the pavement. 

“And that’s a problem,” Carwood said. “You are allowed to want things and I have no idea what those things are.”

“I want this,” Ron gestured between them. “I want this for as long as I’m allowed. Whatever versions of this you are willing to give.”

“You say that like you don’t get a say.”

“Haven’t you noticed that everyone who has figure this out haven’t exactly been thrilled for you? There hasn’t been anyone slapping you on the back saying ‘hey good job getting laid.’ They feel sorry for you Lip, they pity you that got stuck with me. They think I’m lucky you haven’t gotten to know me. They are convinced that the minute that happens, you won’t want anything to do with me. I’m not a choice...I’m a lack of options. There is isn’t a single person in this camp that doesn’t think this relationship ends when you say so.”

“Relationship,” Carwood repeated, feeling a little more giddy than he had a right too.

“That’s your take away?” Ron shook his head. “You’re an object of pity and that’s your take away?”

“I just got you to admit we’re in a relationship,” Carwood said, his face breaking into a smile. “That is the only part that matters right now. See, the things I want require a relationship, so it’s nice that you acknowledge one exists.”

“Is this the part where you try to convince me that Huntington is wonderful over Christmas break?” Ron said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” Carwood laughed. “Because I don’t want to start out our relationship lying to you. It will be cold and there is good chance it will snow. And I’m not going to convince you that Marshall has a great History program because I can’t even finish my engineering degree there.” 

“You know,” Ron said around the cigarette he was lighting. “They have engineering programs in Boston.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone has heard of MIT and my grades are not that good.”

“No one’s grades are good and technically that’s in Cambridge. Which is a completely different county and on the other side of the river. And if you think the winters in West Virginia are bad,” Ron laughed. “I promise we will get snow and you’ll be lucky if we get a high in the 30s.” He paused for a moment staring at the end of his cigarette. When he spoke again the laughter was gone. “And I would never ask you to move there because I’m not that selfish.”

“I have to go somewhere else,” Carwood said, “and Boston has some perks.”

“You say that now and then the first time I have to dig us out of our apartment…” Ron trailed off.

Carwood tried to school his face into something that wasn’t a smile.

“Don’t make that face.” Ron gestured at Carwood with the hand holding his cigarette.

“What face? I’m not making a face. Now what were you saying about our apartment?”

“See if you still like this relationship when you’re back in West Virginia and then when you have to transfer, we can find our apartment,” Ron said.

“You actually have to hold up your end if it. You can’t give me radio silence and hope I’ll move on.”

“I couldn’t do that if I wanted too.”

“Good,” Carwood said, getting up. “You going to let me sleep in your bed again?”

“Probably.” Ron got up, cigarette between his lips. “You don’t want to do your prep work?”

Carwood sighed, “I don’t feel like it.”

“Well then, lead the way.”


	7. Seven

Since the first night Babe had turned up under his window, Babe had been back every night since. Roe was starting to wonder why he even bothered going to bed. The problem was that the absence of sleep was making his already lackluster archery skills even worse.

“Roe, I think we’ve reached the point where we have to admit this isn’t working out,” Speirs said, his head tilted ever so slightly and Roe had to admit he was a little surprised he was so bad at this too.

“He’s improving,” Babe said, sounding more than a little defensive.

Roe fought the urge to smile. It was sweet that Babe felt the need to defend his honor. Roe also knew though that it was a bold face lie. If he was showing any improvement, it was so small that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Heffron, when I want your opinion I’ll ask for it, until then no.” Speirs put his hand on the back of Roe’s shoulder and steered him away from the other boys. “Do you know why archery is a camp activity?”

“Because it’s fun?” Roe couldn’t even fake excitement in asking that question.

“Not for you it isn’t,” Speirs said shaking his head.

“No sir.” Archery was about as enjoyable as having a tooth pulled and since it was now no longer one of the only times he saw Babe, it had lost its last remaining appeal.

Roe was truly surprised that Speirs actually smiled, not the frightening kind he was used to seeing, but a real smile.

“Archery is a camp activity so we can test all of your aims for the paintball tournament against the three neighboring camps at the end of the summer.”

“Is this the part where you break it to me gently that I’m not going to make the team?” Roe asked, trying not to sound disappointed. Sure he knew he’d suck, but he didn’t really want to be left out.

“That’s bullshit,” Babe said, throwing his bow to the ground. What he was planning to do next, Roe could only guess, but his anger made Roe bite his lip to keep from smiling.

“Heffron, I swear to God, no one is talking to you,” Speirs said, not even turning around to look at Babe. “Now Roe, if something around here has to be done gently, they don’t let me do it. No, this is when I tell you that there might be a better use for you. See on each team there are special players with special skills. Malarkey, Muck, and Guarnere are our engineers. Their job is to destroy buildings so the other team can’t use them. There are snipers, which barring death or serious injury is going to be Shifty Powers and maybe Hoob, but only if they let us have two. Winters is going to be our commander and the rest of the counselors are going to be the officers. There’s just one spot we need to fill, the medic.

“See paintballs are oil-based paints so they can be wiped off of skin and the vests we wear. So when a player gets hit, the medic can wipe the hit and heal the player. Unless they got hit in the head, then they have to go back to spawn. Now when a player calls for a medic, they can’t move until you get there so you have to be fast. That and since you can’t heal yourself, you can’t get hit. They will try and shoot you because you’ll have the medic armband on. And I don’t know if they are going to let you have a gun or not. We have to negotiate that in the rules meeting. So if you want do this, we have to start training tomorrow.”

“I want to do it,” Roe said nodding, genuinely excited about the opportunity to help his team.

“Good,” Speirs said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks to Roe, we start paintball training tomorrow.”

The boys cheered, Roe tried not to blush.

“Did you hear that Malark? Our little boy’s all grown up and training as a medic,” Muck said, fanning his face. “They just grow up so fast.”

Penkala patted his shoulder and Malarkey just rolled his eyes. Everyone seemed pleased either because they were happy for him or because it meant that they were going to start paintball. The only one who didn’t seem happy about the whole thing was Babe and Roe wasn’t going to pretend that didn’t hurt. Skip must have noticed too because he steered the other boys away from them as they walked down to crafts. Roe didn’t know whether to be mortified or grateful.

“I don’t know why you aren’t happy for me,” Roe said, walking with both hands stuffed in his pockets. “But could you do me a favor and fake it?”

Babe stopped walking. “Speirs doesn’t know if they are going to let you have a gun!” He practically screamed it and Roe kind of jumped as a result. “They have to negotiate whether or not you will have a weapon to protect yourself! How is that even something they have to debate, like is there a side rooting for unarmed medics? Are we on that side?”

“Babe, just because I have gun doesn’t mean I’m going to be able to hit anything,” Roe said.

“But you definitely won’t be able to if you don’t have a gun! There are not one, but two blood thirsty camps out there that want you dead. How am I supposed to protect you from all those people? Gene, they are going to be actively trying to shoot you because it would hurt our team. I am not crazy about you getting shot…”

If Babe had anything else to add, Roe would never know because at that moment, Roe pulled him in and kissed him. Roe kissed him because Babe was frantically worried he’d get shot with a ball of paint and that made Roe want to kiss him. Babe seemed a little surprised at first, but as Roe’s tongue traced his lips, his shoulders relaxed and Babe got with the program.

“What was that for?” Babe asked as they separated.

“You’re worried about me and I wanted too.”

“Damn right I’m worried about you,” Babe said. “But it is cool that Speirs picked you, that’s got mean something.”

Roe smiled. “Come on, let’s get to crafts.”

Babe bumped his shoulder as he passed and when Roe caught up to him, he returned the gesture.

“You to get that shit sorted?” Bill asked when they sat down at the craft table.

Roe blushed and looked away.

“It only gets worse if you don’t,” Luz said, gesturing between the two of them with a paint brush.

“Oh my god, please stop,” Babe said, blushing.

The way the blush spread across his cheeks made Roe want to kiss him again, but he figured he could wait until they got to lunch.

*~*

Webster sighed as he leaned back against the door frame. It had been one of the longest days he’d had at camp. Between the boat trip and Winters sudden desire to make them swim until their legs fell off, Webster was dead.

“What crawled up Winters’ ass?” Hoob asked, rearranging his towel to make it a suitable pillow.

It was wasn’t so much that Winters was in a mood, but there and been a lot of extra work involved that day.

“He’s trying to get you ready for paintball,” Grant said as he sat down on the steps, his back leaning against the rail and his feet stretching across to the other side of the step. Webster know it was long day when Grant hung out with them before dinner and didn’t proceed directly to the showers. He hadn’t even gone up the hill with Joe to get another heat pack for his face. He’d sent him up there by himself after saying, “Straight up, straight back and at no point are you to fight anyone.”

“Is that as cool as it sounds or is it going to be like Dike and the ATVs?” Hoob asked, finally settling down on the deck.

“It’s cooler than it sounds,” Grant said.

“Awesome.” The way Hoob said the word made Webster laugh.

The sound of someone coming down the walk made him turn and when he did, he saw Joe.  
In one hand he was carrying a full size bag of barbecue chips and in the other was a two liter bottle of Coke. “Guess what I got?” he asked rhetorically, holding the items above his head. Someone must have gone into town and gotten him his lone zombie survivor prize. 

“A heating pad?” Hoob asked, sounding a little annoyed at being woke up or at the very least bothered.

“Open your eyes, Hoob,” Grant managed around laughter. Which was good because Webster could not have stopped laughing long enough to get the words out. Joe was bent in half, he was laughing so hard.

Hoob turned his head and must have opened his eyes because the next thing he said was “oh barbeque.”

“Damn right barbeque,” Joe said, stepping over Grant’s legs. “They didn’t give me cups, but I figure we can handle drinking out of the bottle.”

“You’re going to share?” Hoob was sitting up now sounding surprised, but looking genuinely pleased.

“Yeah, if they get hot and stale I’m not going to want them. Budge over, Hoob.” Joe poked Hoob’s hip with the toe of his shoe so he could sit where he normally did by the door frame. Joe slid down the door frame in one long movement. He brushed off their thanks with a casual shrug.

“I’m pretty sure I shook this,” he said, gesturing to the Coke. “So we will have to hold off on that.” He pulled the chips open with pop.

“Give it here,” Grant said, pointing to the Coke. Joe handed over the pop and Grant set it down. He then began tapping the sides of bottle and when he twisted the lid off, the bottle hissed but nothing spilled out over the top.

“Is there anything you can’t do? Where did you learn that?” Joe asked, looking from the bottle to Grant.

Grant smiled, “Speirs taught me that. There is a reason that works, I just can’t remember what it is.”

Webster could see the wheels turning behind Joe’s eyes as he passed the bag of chips around. Joe had been trying to piece together what there was between Speirs and Grant since Speirs had run Grant down to turn him into a zombie.

Sure enough, the next thing out of Joe’s mouth was, “How do you know him?”

“Speirs? He was my cabin leader. He’s spent summer camp in this cabin ever since he was your age,” Grant said as if this was information that Joe should have come in contact with at some point. Webster was actually a little surprised that they hadn’t.

“Is he the one that built the…you know,” Webster asked, tilting his head back to the cabin.

Grant just shrugged. Whether it was because he didn’t know or wasn’t talking, Webster couldn’t be sure. He felt like that was the right answer though, it seemed like a Speirs’ solution to a problem. Something both brilliant and dramatic, shrouded in complete secrecy.

“Huh,” Joe said. “I thought he was your boyfriend.” 

Grant choked on the drink of Coke he’d just taken. After coughing for a moment, he cleared his throat. “Oh god no, that’s kinda gross actually. And don’t spread that around! If that gets back to Lip, Ron will make things really unpleasant around here. I was barely in high school when I met him. I wasn’t really sure I liked boys. I was positive I didn’t like girls that much, but I was a couple months shy of that big revolution. It was like finally having a brother. That probably sounds lame, but I only have sisters. It was nice to have someone teach me how to punch somebody without hurting my knuckles. He thinks it’s hilarious that I got you in my cabin,” Grant said, handing the two liter back to Joe. “It probably is karma for everything I put him through.”

“I can’t see you getting into a lot of fights,” Webster said.

“Yeah well, now I’m a reasonably well-adjusted seventeen year old. Back then I was an angry fifteen year old, caught in a game of tug a war between two parents getting a divorce, so busy trying to hurt each other they stopped caring about their kid.”

Hoob passed him the Coke bottle the way someone passes a bottle of booze around in the movies.

“So if you didn’t figure it out with Speirs then who was it?” Joe asked.

Webster was surprised he was so curious.

“They don’t still go here,” Grant said before taking a swig of the soda. “Thank god, so the possibility that you can embarrass me is removed. Though if he did, there wouldn’t be room for you in this cabin so maybe it would have worked out.”

Joe seemed to consider throwing a chip at him, but decided against it and put it in his mouth.

“So is he not your boyfriend?” Hoob asked.

“No,” Grant shook his head. “He likes girls a lot.” Grant stressed the last word and Webster watched the disappointment cross his face.

“Straight boys,” Joe muttered darkly.

“Hey,” Hoob said, sounding defensive.

“It’s not a dig, Hoob,” Grant clarified. “We like guys and when you are young and not as discerning, you end up falling for a guy that will never want you. It’s like the hottest girl in your class. You have no chance because she has no idea you are alive. But you still want her.”

Hoob seemed to consider this and to find it an acceptable answer. “So when did you know you were gay, Lieb?”

“When did you know you were straight?” Joe snapped.

“First grade,” Hoob said, “this girl in my class came up to me and kissed me. I went home and told my mom I was going to marry her. She moved at the end of the year. I was devastated.”

Webster passed the Coke bottle from where it was sitting on the deck back to Hoob. He smiled at Webster, nodding his head.

“Fourth grade,” Joe said. “I was in detention and we had this really hot student teacher.”

“Oh,” Grant said. “Lieb likes ‘em older.”

“You wish.” Joe nudged Grant with his foot.

Grant laughed and shook his head.

“What about you Web? You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. Whose team do you play for, mine or Hoob’s?” Joe asked with that look that said he was trying to figure out the answer before he gave it.

“Why must we choose teams?” Webster said, rolling his shoulders. “I’d play for either team if asked. My first kiss happened a lot like Hoob’s except she hit me when I tried to stick my tongue in her mouth…”

Webster paused because Joe started laughing.

“I’m glad you find my pain funny,” Webster said, shaking his head.

“It’s hilarious,” Joe said smiling.

“In about fifth grade this guy in my debate team kissed me while we waited after practice for our parents to remember they had kids. That worked too so I just stopped questioning it.”

“Well that must be nice,” Hoob said. “More choices that way.”

“And more opportunities for rejection,” Webster said and Hoob handed him the Coke bottle.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Hoob said.

“Well now that we’ve established that we are all losers,” Grant said, getting up, “I’m going to go take a shower because I smell. Thanks again, Lieb and put that pack on your face. It doesn’t do any good in your pocket.”

“Yes, mother,” Joe said as he dug the heating pack out of his pocket.

“It doesn’t look that bad, Joe,” Webster said. He was straight up lying. The side of Joe’s forehead was blue and purple, but Webster thought the lie couldn’t hurt.

Hoob looked as if something just dawned on him before he asked a question. “Web, why don’t you ever call Joe ‘Lieb’?”

“Because I don’t think our friendship has evolved to the point of romantic pet names,” Webster said, reaching into the bag for another chip.

Joe turned to him, brow furrowed. “You speak German?”

“I’ve taken a year of German in high school, so ‘speak’ is a strong word. When you call him ‘Lieb’, it’s the same word you’d use in German if you wanted to call someone ‘dear’.” Webster clarified for Hoob who was looking confused. “Though I’m pretty sure ‘dear God’ is most people’s reaction to meeting you.”

Joe shrugged but he hadn’t stopped staring at him. The wheels were turning once again and Webster wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with that.

*~*

Carwood was just pushing the used newspaper into the recycle when there was a loud rhythmic banging on the front doors. Carwood jumped. He’d gotten so used to Ron’s quiet seamless entries that the load noise was jarring. When he got to the doors, he saw that George Luz was the source of the commotion. Luz waved at him from the other side of the glass. Carwood just rolled his eyes, unlocked and opened the door for him.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Lip,” Luz said as he strolled into the craft room. “I know I wasn’t who you really wanted to be waiting out there but be careful, you’ll make a guy feel unwanted.”

“What do you want Luz?” Carwood said, checking the paint caddies to make sure he’d gotten everything back.

“Well, I did want to ask you for a favor, but now I’m worried about you. You two have a fight?” Luz asked, sitting down on one of the tables.

“What, why?”

“Doors locked,” Luz said. “How he’s going get in here to ravish you if you lock the door?”

“Wow,” Carwood said, shaking his head. “He just picks the lock or has keys. I’m not really sure.”

“I don’t know if that’s creepy or impressive,” Luz said, tilting his head ever so slightly, as if considering the distinction.

“You wanted something?” Carwood asked.

“Are you trying to rush me out of here?” Luz asked. “Do have him stashed in a closet somewhere?”

“Luz,” Carwood said. He knew he sounded exasperated, but once Luz got on a train of thought it was sometimes hard to get him off.

“Fine, fine,” Luz said, throwing up his hands. “So this favor. You know Dike has been fuckin’ up royally lately…”

Carwood sighed.

“Well of course you do, your boyfriend’s the one they always send in to clean up the mess. Bet that’s pissed him off, have you been going through withdrawal?”

“Jesus Christ,” Carwood sighed.

“Anyway, I figure this can only help my chances of getting hired next year. I mean it’d be really helpful if he like blew something else but I’ll work with what I have. So I’m going to go home and dust off my resume. But it would be really helpful if I had a glowing letter of recommendation following a couple days behind it in the mail.”

“You want me write you a letter of recommendation?” Carwood asked. 

“Yeah, why not? You’re really popular with the boys. I’ve learned a lot watching you. And you’ve witnessed my superior leadership skills and willingness to help my fellow camper.” Luz smiled and sat up a little straighter.

“Are you going to let me write the letter or are you just going to have me sign my name on one?” Carwood asked, grinning.

“Well, you are a busy college student so if it would be helpful, I’d be happy to put together some notes, maybe a rough outline. You know I would do that for you because I’m a team player.” Luz smiled.

Carwood laughed, he couldn’t help it. Ever since the first day he’d been handed group one, he’d found Luz funny. The dysfunctional friendship they’d formed just kinda grew out from there.

“I’d just like to get in while Winters is still here. Figure it will be easier,” Luz said with a shrug.

Carwood must have looked confused because Luz continued. “If Nixon ever convinces Winters to stop coming down here, it’s going to be your boyfriend or Sobel and I have snowball’s chance in hell of getting a summer job.”

“Ron doesn’t-” Carwood had decided to leave Sobel out of it because it was true he didn’t like Luz. But Luz still cut him off before he could try and explain Ron.

“Yeah I know, but if he’s picking, it’s Grant,” Luz said. “I’m not bitter. The kid would do a good job, you can’t deny it. It is what it is. That kid showed up here with no friends, no real personality to speak of, I’d have taken him under my wing too if he was in my cabin. He needed something or he was going to keep getting into trouble.”

“Trouble,” Carwood stammered. “Charles Grant in trouble?”

“Oh, don’t let the model cabin leader fool you,” Luz said. “He and that Talbert kid were always getting into it with Toye and Bill. We got the four of them the same year. Fuck, you’d think we were hosting a fight club.”

“They all get along now.” Carwood was still trying to get his head around this information.

“Ah, more or less. Speirs and Buck straightened them out for the most part.” Luz shrugged. “I mean nothing’s perfect. Bill got into it with Lieb the other day.”

“That was a ground ball,” Carwood said, remembering what Buck had told him.

“Wow, Lip. You got a lot to learn,” Luz said, shaking his head. “Ground ball is just what Buck tells Sobel so they don’t get turned in for fighting. Buck and Speirs don’t turn anyone in for fighting, they just handle it. Kid has to help them for a while until they decided they are sufficiently punished. You know, do some chores, put away the targets or rake the diamond. Something to leave an impression.”

“Ok, that’s what I really need notes on. The rules you follow, the ones you ignore, and the ones you create,” Carwood said.

“You’ve been doing alright,” Luz shrugged.

“Oh fuck, it’s Luz.”

Both of them turned to see Speirs walking in.

“Wow, he really does just sneak right in here,” Luz said. Carwood couldn’t figure out if Luz had decided on creepy or impressive.

“What do I need to do to make you go away?” Ron asked, looking at Luz.

“Luz is looking for letters of recommendation to pad his resume,” Carwood said.

“Great, I’ll write one. It will be glowing. Now get fuck out of here.” There wasn’t really any heat to Ron’s words, just more general annoyance. 

“Really?” Luz sounded surprised, like the thought had never occurred to him.

“Yes. Now Luz, for love of God.” Annoyance had slid into exasperation.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Luz said, getting up off the table. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He winked at Lip before he turned to walk away.

Ron rolled his eyes as the door closed behind Luz.

“You know, I’m pretty sure he thinks you don’t like him,” Carwood said.

“I don’t.”

“How can you not like Luz?”

“I’m immune,” Ron said. “Pretty sure you can get a shot for it like tetanus.” 

Carwood shook his head. “And yet you want him promoted and you’d write him a letter.”

“I’d say anything right now to get you out of here and back to my cabin because it’s empty.” Ron sounded so proud of himself.

“What did you do to Buck and Martin?” Carwood asked.

“They are all next door getting drunk, so let’s get a move on before they start staggering back.” Ron took ahold of Carwood’s wrists and started steering him towards the door.

“Aww, you blew off getting drunk for me? I feel so loved.” Carwood was joking, teasing Ron for the hurried way he was steering him out of here.

When Ron replied though, as he turned off the lights and pushed open the door, he seemed serious. “You should.”

Carwood watched was Ron locked the door to the room with keys that he’d lifted at some point from Carwood’s pocket. He couldn’t even protest to the pickpocketing because of the ever so casual reaction Ron had had to Carwood’s feelings. Like it was something Carwood should already know, something that didn’t need any fanfair. Carwood was surprised by the ease he was able to admit that he felt the same. Well at least to himself anyway, he couldn’t really imagine saying it out loud to Ron.

*~*

The burn of a good whiskey was something that Nix thought he would always enjoy, especially when the alternative was watching Dick plan paintball strategy. Sure Nix liked paintball as much as the next guy, but it’s not like they were invading an occupied country. There was something to be said for flying by the seat of your pants.

“You know, we haven’t even had a rules meeting yet,” Buck called though the screen door to their cabin.

“Give it rest,” Nix said. “It’s no fun baiting him when he won’t play along.”

“Have some experience with that do you?” Martin asked before taking a swig of his beer.

“Finals week, twice a year,” Nix said, shaking his head. And just like when finals week would hit, Nix gathered a group of his friends together with the goal of getting tanked. Sure the friends are less fun in Chicago, but the booze was better so it’s a coin flip. Martin and Buck were notoriously easy to convince that drinking was good idea. They’d just gotten started when Harry turned up - Kitty’s camp was having a campfire and she just couldn’t sneak out that night. The way Harry took it, you’d think he hadn’t seen her in years instead of the night before. No one seemed to know where Speirs was, but Lip wasn’t here either and Nix figured those two things were correlated.

“Dick,” Harry called. “Why can’t we have our campfire the same night as the girls?”

For getting there late, Harry had made up for lost time. His eyes were starting to take on that glazed look and he was starting to slur his s’s.

“They didn’t email me their activities schedule,” Dick called out.

“Bitches,” Harry said before taking a swig out of Nix’s bottle that he’d somehow gotten a hold of.

Martin started laughing. “Don’t ask me why that’s funny, but it is.”

“It’s ok,” Nix said, taking the bottle back because Harry didn’t really need to be holding it. “You’ll see her tomorrow and she’ll be just as pretty as you remember.”

“No, but I won’t because we have our campfire and your boyfriend is making me supervise,” Harry said dramatically as if it were the cruelest blow in the world.

“Fuck,” Buck swore, leaning back on the wall of the cabin. “That sneaks up on me every year.”

“I can’t believe you don’t like the campfire,” Martin said shaking his head. “What is not to like about hot dogs and s’mores?”

“Ugg that doesn’t even sound good,” Nix said, shaking his head.

“Well not with booze,” Martin said like Nix was being particularly stupid.

“Kitty likes this vodka that tastes...thats supposed to taste like marshmallows. It tastes more like caramel to me,” Harry said. 

“Then why don’t they call it that?” Nix asked, also trying to figure out why someone would do that to perfectly good vodka. Flavored liquors were a sign of the end of days.

“I don’t know, Nix. I just buy it for her,” Harry shrugged.

“Whatever the campfire is, it’s also sixteen boys and an open flame. What could go wrong?” Buck said.

“Four,” Nix corrected.

“What?” Buck said.

“We’re going to light all the pits this year because we got more rain this year,” Nix said.

“Jesus, Dick,” Buck yelled. “Is this personal? Why the fuck do you hate me?” Buck thumped his fist against the cabin wall.

“Sparky,” Harry called.

Nix turned to see Ron and Lip heading into the cabin next door.

“Come over here, we have liquor,” Harry called.

“So busy, Harry,” Ron said, practically shoving Lip inside the cabin. “So busy,” he repeated before slamming the cabin door behind him.

“That’s so not fair,” Harry said, pointing at the other cabin. “He’s normally the surly sex-deprived one in our friendship. There is an injustice here somewhere.”

Martin started laughing again. “Someone remind me to tell Speirs that one in the morning.”

“Well, there goes our cabin,” Buck said.

“You can stay over here,” Nix said. “Harry’s here and there is a map spread out on our floor. I’m not getting laid.”

“Hey don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Harry said, nudging Nix with his foot. “Besides, it’s not like you let me being in the room bother you before.”

“I thought you were asleep,” Nix said. Harry was never going to let that one go.

“Yeah, asleep. Not dead!”

Buck and Martin were laughing pretty hard at this point so Nix said nothing in response. Besides, there are only so many times he could apologize.

“So did anyone see this odd couple coming?” Buck said, nodding in the direction of his cabin.

“Well, you could tell Ron was interested, but I didn’t think Lip would go for it,” Nix said.

“I thought Lip was straight,” Martin commented, shrugging.

“I think it’s perfect.” Harry was now laying on the deck so Nix couldn’t see his face to gage if he was being serious or not.

“Really?” The disbelief in Martin’s voice said that he, at least, had taken Harry seriously.

“Yeah, we’re assholes on our own. We’d probably go on just fine, thinkin’ there’s nothing wrong wit’ it. They make us better, make us wanna try. Because they do all time and we wanna be the kind of person they want.”

“You are strangely poetic when you’re drunk, Welsh,” Buck said.

“I miss Kitty” was Harry’s only response.

“We should probably get him to bed,” Dick said from where he was standing behind the screen door.

“I think he’s probably right, Harry,” Martin said. “Think you might want to go to bed?”

“No, wanta go see Kitty,” he said, resisting Martin’s efforts to get him to sit up.

“I don’t think you could make it down to the dock, let alone into a boat,” Buck said as he opened the door.

“I miss Kitty,” Harry said. Martin had gotten him to his feet.

“I know you do, buddy.” Martin patted Harry’s chest as he steered him into the open door. Dick just smiled indulgently as Harry and Buck passed before walking out onto the porch.

“Do you need some help?”

“I’ll have you know, I am not that drunk,” Nix said, pointing a finger at his boyfriend.

Dick held up his hands in surrender. Nix wasn’t really feeling that drunk until he attempted to get up. The moment he was upright thought, the world began to spin dangerously and he staggered. He might have fallen down the stairs behind him if Dick hadn’t grabbed him around the middle to steady him.

“I was fine until you made me stand up,” Nix said, looking up at Dick’s worried expression.

“So this is my fault?”

“Sure is,” Nix said, getting his footing.

“I think we need to get you to bed,” Dick said.

“Why do you only want to get me to bed when there are three other people in our cabin?”

Dick laughed and steered him around toward the door and if Nix leaned into Dick, it was just because he was warm and smelled good. It absolutely wasn’t because he was drunk.


	8. Eight

Carwood woke up like he had for the last couple of weeks, head pillowed on Ron’s chest with sunlight softly streaming in through the cabin’s windows. He shifted against Ron’s side and felt Ron pull him closer.

“It’s too early, go back to sleep.” Ron’s voice was thick with sleep.

Carwood blinked and focused on the rest of the cabin, noticing that Buck and Martin hadn’t come back that night. They’d re-dressed last night assuming that they would at some point, but they must have passed out next door. Harry had seemed pretty gone when they’d gotten back.

“Buck and Martin didn’t come back last night,” Carwood said, nuzzling Ron’s side.

Ron hummed, “Talk dirty to me.”

Carwood laughed and sat up in bed. “Come on, we have to get up.”

“Buck’s alarm hasn’t gone off yet,” Ron said, trying to pull Carwood back down to lay with him.

“Buck wasn’t here to set it,” Carwood said. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Ron groaned and reached blindly over on the nightstand until his fingers contacted his watch. “It’s 6:30,” he read. “They don’t start serving breakfast until 8:00. Go back to sleep.”

“Is that really what you want to do?” Carwood asked, sliding his hand under Ron’s shirt. “This will probably be our only chance at morning sex.”

“You get more adventurous every day,” Ron said, finally opening his eyes and looking up at Lip.

Prior to meeting Ron, Carwood had never been terribly drawn to one eye color over the others. The first time Ron looked at him, Carwood knew that he that he would be forever ruined for anything other than that distinct shade of green.

Ron sat up and wrapped his hand around the back of Carwood’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Ron’s mouth tasted like morning and stale cigarettes, but Carwood couldn’t bring himself to care. Ron’s fingers teased the hem of Carwood’s shirt. Last night he’d been hesitant to let Ron remove his clothes. It was a little much too be seen, a little too much of him on display. This morning though, his arms went up easily and the shirt was dispatched to the floor. Ron pulled his own shirt off and tossed it over the side of the bed. Ron was all compact muscle and lean lines. Carwood knew whatever he was, he wasn’t that. Any of the ways that he found himself lacking though, Ron seemed not to notice. Ron had spent the previous evening cataloging most of Carwood’s body with his fingers and his mouth. This morning, Carwood was sure he had the bruises to prove that Ron had liked what he’d found.

“All the things I want to do to you, we don’t have time for,” Ron said as he maneuvered Carwood so he could push him down onto the mattress.

It was moments like this that threw into sharp contrast their experience levels. It was obvious Ron had done this before. It was also painfully transparent, at least to Carwood, that his experience was minimal. It hadn’t really occurred to Carwood to mind except for those rare moments when Ron seemed to believe himself unworthy. In those moments, Carwood wanted to track the guy down and kick his ass. Every other moment though, he was just glad that he could trust Ron to take the lead. Carwood worked well with directions and Ron seemed to give them pretty well. 

When Ron had gotten Carwood where he wanted him, he begin an exploration of Carwood’s neck with his lips and teeth. Carwood knew that he already had one bruise on his left shoulder, but he was sure his camp shirt would cover it. Pretty sure.

Ron leaned over and opened his nightstand drawer.

“What are you doing?” Carwood asked, leaning up to follow him.

“I have lube in here somewhere,” Ron said.

Carwood didn’t say anything. He tried not to make a face, but he knew his body went rigid. They were close enough that he knew Ron would feel it.

“Not for that,” Ron said, kissing the side on his neck and closing the drawer after he found what he was looking for. “We’d need more time for that and zero chance of interruption. Still haven’t worked that out yet.”

“Think it’s possible?”

“Sure it is,” Ron smiled in that wicked way of his that made Carwood want to agree to things that scared him. “Just have to convince you to be adventurous enough to try it.”

Whether it was in an effort to distract Ron or just because he wanted to, Carwood pulled Ron into a kiss. Ron seemed to be convinced easily enough as he worked on getting Carwood out of his boxers and then made short work of his own. Carwood figured out what the lube was for when Ron lined their cocks up before stroking them with lube covered fingers.

“Shit,” Carwood groaned, gripping the back of Ron’s shoulder to keep himself upright.

He could feel Ron’s breath on his neck as his fingers worked them though a rhythm that got progressively faster. What sent him over the edge was when Ron moaned, “Fuck Lip,” against his neck and tightened his grip. Ron followed when Carwood leaned up to nip at the skin above his collarbone and the bruise he’d left there the night before. Ron groaned as he reached over the side of his bed for his t-shirt that he used to clean them off.

“Five more minutes,” Ron said as he spread himself out over Carwood’s body.

Carwood didn’t object. He just combed his fingers though Ron’s dark hair. He needed to get up. He needed to take a shower so he didn’t turn up at breakfast still smelling like sex. If Ron wanted five more minutes, he was sure they could manage that and maybe another five minutes after that.

*~*

Hangover was not exactly how Nix wanted to spend the afternoon of the campfire. That sadly was how he found himself that morning…ok, it was really more like afternoon. But it really all hinged on the interpretation of 11:30. Nix was going to call that morning and he’d made it to his lunch supervision on time. That was more than he could say for Harry, he’d missed it altogether. Although to be fair, Harry actually took the boys on the lake that afternoon, Nix hadn’t even had the energy to fake water safety.

He’s going to blame his altered state on the sudden wave of nostalgia that hit him square in the chest when he arrived at the fire pits. The place always seemed to smell like burning timber and citronella. Even if nothing had happened down here since the year before. Every time he caught he caught a whiff of that lemony smell, whether it was in the garden aisle of a store or someone’s backyard, he was transported back to these pits. Back here where he’d sat so close to Dick that their legs touched. They’d sit like that and argue about the proper way to cook a marshmallow. Dick liked his golden brown, sometimes blonde. Nix, on the other hand, waited until his actually caught fire and he had to quickly blow them out to save them. Sure they were burnt to a crisp but how else were you going to get that warm almost liquid center? Besides, the chocolate on there really overrides the brunt taste.

The desire to recreate that shade of intimacy between two fifteen year olds was what had prompted Nix to buy Dick patio furniture for his birthday last year. It wasn’t anything elaborate, just two chairs and a small table big enough to fit a glass of red wine and tumbler full of whiskey. The wine glass having been an anniversary present. Of course the scene was completed by the citronella candle sitting by the base of the table. Warm nights were spent on that patio with books and alcohol.

“God, this shit smells gross,” Ron said as he twisted the lid back onto the citronella torch. “My hands are going to smell like this for the rest of the night.”

Nix sighed, shook his head, and staked another one of the torches into the ground. It was moments like this that he was reminded how lucky he was that he found Dick when he got to summer camp. Ron didn’t have fond memories of campfires, didn’t have anyone to sit with, and generally avoided social situations whenever he could. Nix might have ended up like that were it not for the boy with red hair and a plan to turn one of the bigger kids into a zombie.

It was easy to like that kid, even if he didn’t know how to cook a marshmallow. He was full of bright ideas and optimistic that they would all work out. He had a smile that reached his eyes when Nix told a joke. He was quiet and patient, things Nix didn’t know how to be. He sunburned too easily, but loved the water. He didn’t pull away when Nix kissed him and he let Nix run his fingers through his hair when they were alone.

It was easier still to love the adult that he had grown up to be. Who would cook dinner because Nix had a night class. The man was full of plans for how their future would turn out after they graduated. Quiet and patient were still words that could never be used to describe Nix. But he found both waiting for him when he got back their one bedroom apartment. He still sunburned too easily, but now Nix wasn’t embarrassed to rub sunscreen on his face anymore. His hands had even stopped shaking because Dick had already found him out a long time ago. Nix went to swim meets instead of just hearing about them on the phone. He was now the one calling Dick’s mother between heats, instead of the other way around. Now he got to kiss Dick like he had all the time in the world because he did, any moment could be picked up later on. And when they were sitting on their sofa, Dick would still let Nix run his fingers through his hair while he pillowed his head on Nix’s legs.

So even though he’d long outgrown the taste of s’mores, Nix liked campfires. Even though he had to supervise, he knew he’d find a small moment to sit down next to Dick so close their legs touched.

“There, last one.” Nix pushed the stake into the ground.

“Fucking finally,” Ron said. “Is Dick bringing up the firewood or does he want us to do that?”

“We might as well do it, Dick hates backing out the trailer,” Nix said, picking up the container of citronella and putting it in the back of the ATV.

“It’s not that hard,” Ron said in a long suffering tone.

“We live in a city of mass transit,” Nix shrugged. “Backing out a trailer is not a skill he’s going to need.”

“So do I.” Ron climbed behind the driver’s seat of the ATV.

“Let me have the good boyfriend points on this one. Harry kills spiders and I drive anything larger than a midsize sedan.”

“You know, Kitty can kill spiders on her own,” Ron said with just barely concealed laughter. “She just does that because it makes Harry feel handy. It’s not like he’s gifted when it comes home improvement.”

“Are you saying I’m being hoodwinked?”

Ron shrugged as he drove them down the hill. “I’m saying allow for the possibility.” 

“I call the super because that’s what a super is for.” Nix crossed his arms over his chest.

Ron just laughed. Nix couldn’t wait until Lip started pulling this kind of stuff on Ron. If he was smart, Ron was thinking the same thing.

*~*

“Oh my god, what are you doing?”

“What?” Roe stopped, ketchup bottle poised midair, to look at Babe.

“Ketchup on a hot dog?”

“Yes,” Roe said, squeezing the ketchup onto the two hot dogs he was holding in his hand.

“Ketchup on a hot dog?”

“You know just because you keep repeating it, doesn’t mean I’m going repent my evil ways,” Roe said, licking ketchup off his finger as he tried to balance the two hot dog buns in one hand so he could still pick up a lemonade with the other.

Babe shook his head and then shook the mustard bottle before squeezing a couple of yellow ribbons of mustard down both hot dogs. “I mean, you always see the dispensers at the ballpark, but I never thought anyone actually used them.”

“Well, I don’t like mustard,” Roe said as they walked toward one of the campfires.

Babe, who had been walking beside him, stopped and Roe took another couple of steps before realizing and turning around.

“Are you reevaluating our friendship?” Roe asked, tilting his head and honestly trying not to laugh.

“No, but I’m going to need a minute,” Babe said, shaking his head as they resumed their walk over to find a log to sit on. When they sat down, even though they had the whole log, Babe sat right next to Roe. So close their legs touched. “But you like potato salad and there’s mustard in there?”

“Really?” Roe asked, pretending to be shocked. “I know there is Babe, but you cut it with like a shit ton of mayonnaise.”

“Ok, but promise me when I take you out of for Philly cheese steaks, you’ll at least try a bite of mine with mustard. Then you can eat yours without and I’ll pretend not to notice.”

“If it means that much to you.” Roe decided not to tell Babe he didn’t really care for bell peppers. He didn’t think Babe could handle that right now.

Roe noticed that even though there was plenty of space around their fire, the boys from one and three were all grouped together around a different fire where Luz seemed to be holding court. He was just about to ask Babe if he wanted to go sit with them when Muck turned around and gave him an exaggerated wink.

“Oh Jesus,” Roe said, turning to rest his head on Babe’s shoulder.

“What?” Babe looked around in confusion.

“Muck is giving us alone time,” Roe said, trying to will the blood to stop rushing to his checks.

“How thoughtful,” Babe said. 

“How are you not embarrassed that my cabin leader is giving us a date night?”

“Because this isn’t a date,” Babe said. “A date involves me picking you up at your house, meeting your mom, and taking you somewhere nice. This…this is hot dogs.”

“You’re going to meet my mom when she picks me up if the bus hasn’t left for the airport yet,” Roe said. Mostly because he couldn’t think of what else to say. Babe’s statement was uplifting and crushing at the same time. Babe wanted to date him and that thought made him warm all over. With all the miles between them though, would they ever get a chance?

Babe smiled at him like he might have said something else, but Luz came over holding two paper sacks.

“Here you go boys,” Luz said. “They didn’t give us enough sticks, you’ll have to grab one.” He handed over the one stick he did have.

“It’s ok,” Roe said. “I don’t need a stick.”

Luz shrugged and walked back over to the other fire.

“Why don’t you need a stick?” Babe asked while Roe dug around inside the bag.

“Because,” Roe said, removing from it the candy bars and graham crackers. “I am going to sit here and eat chocolate and graham crackers.” He handed the bag still containing the marshmallows over to Babe. “You can have these.”

“You don’t like marshmallows.” Babe sounded stunned as he took the bag.

“No,” Roe said with a shudder.

“You have to be kidding.”

“Mom thinks it’s because when I was little I used to get them confused with mushrooms,” Roe shrugged.

“Those are gross,” Babe said as he put a marshmallow on the end of his stick.

“They are not,” Roe said.

“If you say so.” Babe put his marshmallow into the fire. “But you like rice Krispy treats right?”

“Eww.” Roe knew he made a face, but he couldn’t help it.

“Well, if anyone offers you one, I’ll take it off your hands,” Babe said, turning his marshmallow. “Wait, so how is potato salad ok, but rice Krispies are a bridge too far?”

“There’s a potato in there,” Roe said. “I can get though a lot if there’s a potato involved.”  
Babe laughed and pulled his marshmallow out of the fire.

“Here,” Roe said, holding out two graham crackers, one with a couple of chocolate squares on it. Babe placed the marshmallow on top of the chocolate. Roe put the cracker on top and held it together as Babe pulled out the stick.

“Gross,” Roe said, looking at the marshmallow that had oozed out onto one of his fingers. He made to wipe it off on one of the sacks, but Babe caught his wrist. Roe held his breath while Babe licked the marshmallow off his finger.

“There. Better?” Babe asked as he let go of Babe’s hand.

Roe cleared his throat. “Yeah, better.”

“Are you going to kiss me later if I eat these?”

“Probably,” Roe said, grinning. He really wanted to kiss Babe now, but the laughter from one of the neighboring pits made him stop. Roe could tell by the look on Babe’s face he knew it too.

*~*

Since breakfast, when Winters told them that two representatives from the local astronomy club would be bringing out telescopes, Webster had been looking forward to this evening. Joe, on the other hand, had been complaining since breakfast.

“Since when did this become summer school?”

“It’s optional right?”

“What do you mean I have to go?”

This had been background noise and had been easy to ignore. What has harder to ignore was when Joe had figured out Webster was actually looking forward to it.

“Figures this would be something you’d be into.”

“I don’t think it’s actually possible for you to be a bigger nerd at this point. I think if you tried you might actually explode.”

“What’s the big deal, they are literally the same stars you saw last night?” 

Webster had fought the urge to inform Joe that no, they were not in fact the same stars because the night sky changes every night. He knew telling Joe that would only make it worse and in the end, prove his point. Webster tried to avoid proving Joe right whenever he could.

It actually ended up being cooler than Webster had imagined. When Webster had heard the phrase ‘homemade telescopes,” he had not envisioned that they would both be taller than him. The larger of the two required a step ladder in order to reach the eyepiece.

The astronomers started with an explanation of Ursa major and minor, they used laser pointers to show how the bears were formed and pointed out how to find the north star. They explained that red light would travel further. Next came Sagittarius and Scorpius and Webster was little disappointed that Gemini had already peaked. Not that he read his horoscope, but it would have been cool. The truly fun part came when they sent them to the telescopes. The smaller of two was pointed at Mercury which was barely visible above the tree line. The astronomers mentioned that the first group hadn’t been able to see it because it had been too early.

This had been about the point that Webster had noticed a change in Joe, something about seeing a planet got Joe excited. The other telescope was trained on Saturn and Mars. Webster didn’t know what to expect. Mercury had just looked like a particularly bright star. With the bigger telescope, he could see the outline of Saturn’s rings. When Joe had taken his turn, Webster had heard him exclaim ‘cool.’ Webster had tried not to look smug when Joe got down, but judging by Joe’s glare, he failed a bit.

“You know, if you boys want to stick around,” one of the astronomers said. “In about thirty minutes, Neptune will be at opposition.”

“What’s that?” Joe asked.

“Neptune is going to be opposite the Sun,” he explained. “Neptune is hard to spot most of the time and you can’t see it without magnification. So this is our best chance to see it, when it gets lit by the sun.”

“That’s after midnight,” Grant said, looking at his watch, the after lights out implied if not spoken out loud.

“But can we stay?” Joe asked.

“Please,” Hoob added.

“We’ll be out here anyway, I want to try and get some pictures with my telescope,” said the other astronomer. “They won’t be any trouble, this is the most excited group we’ve had all night.”

Webster watched Grant fold somewhere after being told that they would be there anyway. They passed the time looking though the album of photos taken with the telescope. They were just about ready to go when Lip came up the hill.

“What are you boys still doing here?” he asked, sounding a little surprised.

“We’re waiting on Neptune,” Hoob said.

“They aren’t any trouble,” the astronomer repeated. “We’d still be out here without them.”

“Well that’s good,” Lip said. “Counselor Winters sent me up to give you a donation for your club.”

Lip handed over an envelope and both the astronomers thanked him for it.

“I’ll wait up here with you guys so you don’t get in trouble for being out late,” Lip said mostly to Grant, since no one else cared.

“Thanks Lip,” Grant said, the relief was coming off him in waves. You could tell that he’d been trying to figure out how to sneak them back down the hill for at least the last twenty minutes.

“Ok boys, looks like we are all set.”

Hoob practically sprang off the ground to get there first. “Holy shit, it’s actually blue!”

“That’s because of all the methane in its atmosphere.”

“What’s that other bright spot?” Joe asked on his turn.

“That’s Neptune’s moon, Triton. It orbits in retrograde. Here, hold out your fist.”

Joe did as he was told.

“See our moon orbits like this,” he said, moving his finger around Joe’s fist, starting on the left and moving to the right. “Triton is different, it goes like this.” Now his fingers started above Joe’s fist before bring it around below. “Moons that orbit in retrograde are normally stolen.”

“Stolen?” Webster asked, looking up from the view finder.

“It drifted too close to Neptune and the planet’s gravity pulled it into orbit.”

After they had all taken a second trip, Lip told them it was time to go. They thanked the two men again and took off back down the hill, Joe in the lead because he’d brought the flashlight.

“So turns out not so lame,” Webster said, walking besides Joe.

“You’re still a giant nerd,” Joe said, not looking away from the flashlight's beam.

Webster shrugged. He could live with that he supposed. As they walked down the hill, the three boys got a little bit ahead of Lip and Grant, who were talking about something Webster couldn’t quite make out. Not that he was trying.

They were just about the tree line when, “What are you boys doing out past lights out?”

The question had caught them all off guard and Joe had actually jumped, causing him to bump into Webster. Standing in front of them was Sobel. Webster had been so busy watching the ground he hadn’t even seen the man approach. He’d sounded almost joyful to catch them, like the villain in one of Joe’s comics who finally got the drop on the hero.

Another flashlight and a friendlier voice joined them before they had to answer. “They were with me, Counselor Sobel,” Lip said. “We were just dropping off the donation for the astronomers.”

Webster let out the breath he hadn’t consciously been holding. It was then that he caught sight of movement beside them. Almost outside the glow of the flashlights was Speirs, his body was clearly trained in the direction of Sobel. Webster didn’t know if he’d come up the hill looking for them or Lip. It was possible that Speirs just got lucky and the two people he cared most about just happened to be in the same place at the same time. The problem that both Webster and Speirs seemed to recognize was that so was Sobel.

“You are aware that they are out past lights out?” Sobel asked.

Lip answered in a calm voice despite the condescension that had just been directed at him. “The astronomers were explaining something to the boys. It seemed rude to drag them away, that’s why I walked them back myself. So they wouldn’t get into any trouble.”

Webster could tell from Speirs’ posture that this was Sobel’s last shot to turn them loose. If he didn’t, Speirs was going to make sure he was the one in trouble.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us,” Lip said. “I better get these boys back to their cabin so they can get to bed.”

Lip and Grant herded them around Sobel. Webster had expected a response from Sobel, but maybe he’d figured out that this wouldn’t hold up if he brought it to Winters. Or maybe he too had caught sight of Speirs glaring at him from the shadows.


	9. Nine

“This sucks,” Babe declared from where he was standing looking out the window. They had woken up to it pouring rain. When they had gone to breakfast, Muck had pulled out a large umbrella and they had crowded under it to walk. Once there, they had learned that their morning outdoor activities were canceled. For the first time Roe had actually been disappointed to miss out on archery. Since he’d decided he would be a medic, Speirs had been setting up courses for him to complete and he had been running sprints to work on his speed. The rain meant a whole day of lost work. He’d not been opposed to working out in the rain, but Speirs told him it was against camp rules since he could be struck by lightning.

“You want to play another hand of cards?” Roe asked, shuffling the deck of cards they had borrowed from Malarkey.

Babe sighed.

“I know you want to go outside, but that’s just not going to happen,” Roe said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind on board games in the multipurpose room?”

Babe sighed again before joining Roe on the bed. Roe had been just about to deal the cards when counselor Sobel entered their cabin. Roe palmed the deck of cards and slipped them inside the hoodie pocket that he’d put on that morning because he was cold. He wasn’t sure if they were contraband or not, but he wasn’t going to be the one that lost Malarkey a deck of cards.

“This is a cabin inspection,” Sobel announced loudly. Roe had known that this was coming. Muck had warned them, other cabins were whispering about Sobel being on a warpath. Luz and Muck had decided that they could expect this any day. Still, Roe hadn’t been quite ready for that entrance. It was a little too familiar. A little too much like his step-dad. The trigger in Roe’s head clicked off and he was back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed. The door flying open to grant the monster entrance. The yelling would begin. How he was a worthless. How he was a drain on his mother, worrying her all the time. How this kind of behavior wasn’t going to fly in the real world. He never laid a hand on Roe, he didn’t have to. The words cut deeper and left scars that would never heal. The impact of those words was just as damaging as a punch to the face. And they left Roe with the inability to handle someone yelling at him without drawing in on himself.

Babe noticed, of course he noticed, he always noticed everything Roe did. Of course it helped that Roe’s hands were shaking. Roe was so withdrawn, he failed to notice that Sobel had sorted through his footlocker and, finding nothing, had moved on.

“Hey,” Babe said, taking Roe’s hands in his. Roe looked up at him and tried to will himself to stop shaking even though he knew it wouldn’t work.

“Hey,” Babe repeated. “Let’s go up and find a board game.”

Sobel was too busy sifting through Malarkey’s open footlocker to notice what they were doing.

“Ok,” Roe said, nodding and grabbing ahold of Babe’s hands to give him something grounded to hold on too. He got up from the bed and walked over to his footlocker. He dug around until he got to the bottom and pulled out his raincoat. He was still trying to fight his way to the surface and break the cycle before it got underway that he didn’t even think about the bag of M&M’s that Muck had folded inside the garment. So when he unfolded the coat, they fell out and hit the floor. Roe sucked in a gasp of air, but Babe was thinking and moving much faster. He put his foot on top of the bag and slid it under Roe’s bed.

“What was that?” Sobel demanded in his raised voice and Roe froze. He felt himself sliding into a cycle he couldn’t break.

“His coat,” Babe said, which was good because Roe wasn’t sure he could produce words.

Sobel got up from where he’d been crouched in front of Malarkey’s locker and returned to Roe’s. Once there, he started removing everything, throwing things over his shoulder as he dug through Roe’s locker.

“There’s nothing there. You already searched it,” Babe said, putting himself bodily between Roe and Sobel.

“Don’t smart off to me, camper,” Sobel said, turning on them. “How about we take a look through your locker?”

“Be my guest,” Babe said. “Cabin one, second bed on the left and you’re not going to find anything there either.”

Sobel’s eyes narrowed and he turned to Penkala’s footlocker. He made an excited noise as soon as he opened it. He reached in and produced a box of Twinkies that Penkala’s mother had sent him the week before. “This is contraband,” he said, banishing the box in Roe’s direction. “Your cabin will be docked points for this.”

Just as quickly as he’d come, he’d left, the door slamming behind him. When the door contacted the frame, the bottom dropped out Roe’s emotional state and he started to cry. Not just the soft kind of tears that come because a movie was too sad. It was the kind of sobbing that you can barely breathe through, the kind that makes you gasp to get air around the tears that just won’t stop coming.

“I got you,” Babe whispered, his arms going around Roe’s waist. He guided Roe back to the bed and helped him sit down. He let Roe lean into his chest and brought his fingers up to stroke Roe’s hair. “It’s ok,” Babe said soothingly. “It’s ok and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” Roe gasped for breath, trying to will himself to stop crying because of how it must look to Babe.

The door to the cabin opened and Luz stuck his head in. “Shit, Roe.” He was over to them in three quick strides. When he spoke, it was softly and for that Roe was grateful. “Did Sobel hit him?” 

Roe felt Babe shake his head, his chin brushing the top of Roe’s hair. “He was just a lot to handle.” Babe’s fingers were still stroking Roe’s hair.

“Here, kiddo.” Luz crouched down in front of him and gripped Roe’s knee. From his pocket, he produced a handkerchief. Roe took it with shaky fingers and blew his nose. He could feel himself starting to hit the surface, the exhaustion rolling in the tears’ wake. “It’s ok, kiddo. You’re safe now.” He ran his hand over Roe’s arm. “He find anything?”

“Penkala had a box of Twinkies,” Babe said.

“Shit,” Luz swore.

“Socks,” Roe said, his voice trembling around the word.

“What?” Luz asked him. He was smiling, but Roe could see he was a little thrown.

Roe cleared his throat. It was always hard to produce words again after he’d had a spell. “The box was full of dirty socks, we ate the Twinkies last week.”

Luz snorted before dissolving in full blown laughter. He was laughing so hard that he had to sit down on the floor. Roe felt Babe chuckle though their proximity.

“Imagine Sobel’s face,” Luz wheezed.

Roe felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“There it is,” Babe said. “There’s the smile I love.” He placed a small kiss on Roe’s forehead. 

“You gonna be ok, kid?” Luz asked, wiping his own eyes.

Roe nodded, extracting himself from Babe’s hold enough that he could sit up. “Going to go get some air.”

“I’ll go with you,” Babe said without any prompting.

“Sounds like a plan,” Luz said. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Roe and pulled him into a hug. “We're not going to let anything like that happen to you again, ok? We look out after each other.”

Roe nodded as he returned the hug.

“You boys be careful, ok?” Luz said. “He comes back, you just leave. You don’t have to take his shit. You come find one of us, ok? Come find me or you go get Muck, ok? You don’t deal with that shit on your own.”

The boys nodded. Luz gave them each a squeeze on the shoulder before he left. Babe got up and pulled off his raincoat from where it was hanging by the door. He picked Roe’s up off the floor and brought it over to him. Roe put it on, he hadn’t even been aware that he’d dropped it.

“Hey, what do you say we go down to the dock?” Babe said, kneeling down in front of Roe as Luz had done. Babe reached under the bed and pulled out the bag of M&M’s. “We’ll crack these open. Chocolate makes everything better.”

Roe nodded and so they made their wet, cold, winding way down the dock. Once they got there, they sat down against the interior wall. Babe pulled the bag of M&M’s out of his raincoat and used his pocket knife to cut a small slit in the top of the bag. Roe cupped his hands and Babe poured out some M&M’s. Roe shifted them into one hand before he spoke.

“My stepfather,” he started.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, not if it hurts,” Babe said.

“It’s ok,” Roe said, wiping his nose and realizing that he still had Luz’s handkerchief. “He would fly off the handle. One minute he’d be fine and then something would set him off and he’d unload on us. It was always something small, something that didn’t really matter. He’d just start screaming at me or at my mom.”

“Did he ever hit you?” Babe asked and it was as closest to anger as Roe remembered hearing Babe outside of when he’d talked about Sobel.

Roe shook his head. “No, he didn’t touch us. When he screamed at me, I would start shaking. Then I would just shut down. It’s like the light was on, but no one was home. I wouldn’t move, I couldn’t really tell you what was going on. It was like a panic attack, except nothing like it because I wasn’t breathing heavy, but I could feel my heart racing. Then all of sudden when he’d leave or some time before, I’d just start crying. Well you saw it...then eventually I just bottom out. It passes and I remember what it feels like to have control over my body again. That’s why my mom left, because she saw it happen once and it scared her.”

“Scared me too,” Babe said. “Because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how fix it. I’dve done anything to make it stop hurting you.”

“You can’t really stop it,” Roe said. “Once it starts, you just have to ride it out. It’s like a cycle you have to finish. I wanted to stop. I didn’t want to do that in front of you. I didn’t want you to know I was basket case.”

“You’re not,” Babe said, turning to look at Roe.

Roe shrugged, looking at his M&Ms.

“Look at me. You’re not.” Roe looked up and Babe’s eyes were shining wet. “Don’t talk like that, you are everything. Someone hurt you and I’m going to do everything I can to make it ok even if I can’t fix it.”

Roe bit the inside of his lip. “This helps.”

“Ok,” Babe said, sliding closer to Roe and kissing his forehead. “More of this then.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon just like that. Pressed side by side under the dock, passing the bag of M&Ms back and forth between them and watching the rain fall on the lake.

*~*

The sound of the rain hitting the cabin would have been relaxing were it not also forcing them to stay indoors. Grant said at the rate it was coming down, that even if it stopped, they wouldn’t have baseball that afternoon because it would be too muddy. After breakfast, Grant had carried a Monopoly box out of the multipurpose room under his raincoat. He explained that they had about six and surely they wouldn’t miss this one. When they got back, the four of them had started a game. Webster had been the first out, coming to grief on Grant’s purple pair. Those little guys were surprisingly lethal with hotels. Webster’s last act had been to trade Marvin Gardens off to Joe for ten bucks so Joe would stand a chance against Grant and Hoob. They had broken for dinner then. When they returned, Joe had managed to put up a pair of hotels, but two turns later found him mortgaged up to his eyeballs and unable to pay off Hoob.

“You out?” Webster asked, looking up from writing in his journal.

“Yeah,” Joe said, pulling out a Marvel novel from his nightstand. It too was released from a library and had a small tear in the cover. Webster recognized Spider-Man on the cover, but the rest of the people were a mystery. “I couldn’t pay my electric bill.”

“With what we were paying for rent, you’d think that would be included,” Webster said, returning his attention to his journal.

“Yeah, fuckin’ landlords,” Joe said, but the pair on the floor either didn’t care or didn’t hear him.

Webster shook his head and when he did, he caught sight of someone walking towards the cabin. “Shit, it’s Sobel.”

“Act natural,” Grant said as he rolled the dice.

Webster tried returning his attention to his writing, but he couldn’t remember what he was going to write or even what he was writing about. They knew this was coming, Grant had told them it would when they got back the night before. Grant said he’d put money on an inspection the next day.

The door flew open and Webster couldn’t help it, he jumped.

“Cabin four,” Sobel said, sounding like the Bond villain when he finally encounters ‘Mr. Bond’. Webster really hoped Grant was up to being 007 on this one. “This is your cabin inspection.”

If Sobel had been expecting a strong reaction to his presence, he was disappointed. Webster and Joe just sat on the bed staring at him. Hoob had started popping his knuckles, a nervous habit that Webster had noticed before.

Grant, though, just moved his car around the board, seemingly completely indifferent to Sobel’s arrival. You could tell this grated on Sobel because he immediately set on the footlockers. He started on Webster’s, removing everything, all of Webster’s things piled up beside the locker. When he found nothing, he turned on Grant’s. It received the same treatment as Webster’s, the belongings tossed haphazardly onto the floor. Webster had heard that the other cabins were plotting to leave him a decoy. When Muck had asked Grant if he had anything planned, Grant drew himself up to his full height and said “I’m not going to give the fucker the satisfaction.” After Grant’s, he turned to Hoob’s, only to yield the same result. When he came to Joe’s, Joe had to get off his bed because his clothing was being thrown in his direction. Webster could tell that Joe was dying to say something, but Grant gave him a hard look over Sobel’s shoulder and shook his head. Joe’s posture relaxed, but the glare of death remained on his face.

Sobel slammed Joe’s footlocker closed. At this, Grant stood up. Even standing up straight, Grant was a little shorter than Sobel. Webster could tell he wasn’t going to allow this to deter him. Sobel grabbed Joe’s bedspread and tugged it violently towards him. He used enough force that he tugged the fitted sheet lose at the top. The action caused Joe’s novel to fly into the air and land on the floor. Sobel’s eyes were immediately drawn to it. He leaned forward and picked it.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Personal reading material,” Grant said. “Campers are encouraged to bring reading material in case of inclement weather.”

Webster seemed to remember reading that somewhere. If not that exactly, something damn close to it.

Sobel turned to Grant and Webster would have given his right arm to see the look on Sobel’s face. When Sobel turned back around, he’d schooled his features and walked over to Joe’s nightstand and picked up Joe’s other two novels.

“You can’t take those,” Grant said, his fists clenched at his side. “They aren’t even remotely contraband.”

Sobel did not respond, he just turned to Webster and grabbed the top of his journal. Expecting the tug, Webster pulled back.

“Campers are also encouraged to bring stationary so as to write letters home or for private reflection,” Grant recited through gritted teeth.

Sobel tugged harder on the journal again and because of his leverage, Webster couldn’t keep a hold of it.

“You are out of line!” Grant’s fists were shaking now. “Winters isn’t going to stand for you stealing from these boys.”

“Counselor Winters is not in charge of cabin inspections,” Sobel said, closing Webster’s journal and adding it to the stack in his hands.

“But he’s in charge of you.” Grant had stepped forward so that he was right in Sobel’s face.

“We both know you won’t take this matter to Winters,” Sobel said. He was cold, calculated, and emotionless in the face of Grant’s white hot anger.

“And we both know you won’t like who I choose instead.” Grant’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“Are you threatening a counselor? You are aware that is punishable by dismissal from the campsite?” The excitement in Sobel’s voice almost took on a tangible presence in the room.

“You want to send me home for this? Go the fuck ahead, good luck explaining it.” Grant’s fists were shaking at his side.

Sobel turned and walked out of the cabin, leaving Grant fuming in his wake. Grant sucked in a hard breath through his nose, closing his eyes. Webster could see the effort it was taking to calm himself down.

“No one,” he said and it came out harsh. He took another breath and opened his eyes. “Sorry.” His voice was more even now, more the Grant they had become used to. “No one leaves this cabin.” He turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Hoob asked, his voice sounding smaller than it normally did.

“To get their fucking stuff back,” Grant said. He practically forced the screen off its hinges as he left. The door slammed back into place. For lack of anything else to do, Webster started folding his clothes. Hoob kneeled back down and started putting the board game right. Amazing the kind of things you try to fix when your world is crumbling down around you. If Sobel turned Grant in and he got sent home…Webster shook his head as if to clear the thought. He returned his attention to his shirts. Thinking that lead to darker thoughts, like who would replace him and Webster couldn’t handle that terror at the moment.

Joe finally moved from where he’d been standing in the corner and walked over to his footlocker and opened the lid. With shaking fingers, he picked up one of his t-shirts. He had just started folding in the sleeves when “God fucking damn it.” Joe threw the t-shirt into the empty locker. He walked back over to the far wall of the cabin.

Webster set his shirt down on his bed half folded and walked over to Joe’s locker and picked up the discarded shirt. He set about folding it because sometimes there were only so many things you were prepared to deal with all at once. In the span of five minutes, Joe had lost the order of his things, his treasured novels, and Grant. They would all miss Grant if he were sent home, but Webster knew Joe was losing the most. Joe wasn’t just losing a cabin leader, he was losing someone he looked up to. Grant had really fulfilled the camp’s promise and had become a brother to Joe. Joe’s life had caved in around him. Trying to put it all back together again was just too much to ask. Hoob seemed to feel the same way because he started to make Joe’s bed. They maybe couldn’t fix Joe, but at least they could bring some order to the chaos. Joe leaned back against the wall and slid down, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead.

“Did anyone else think it was badass when Grant started quoting the packing list?” Hoob asked as he smoothed out Joe’s fitted sheet.

Webster tried to muster up a smile as he folded another of Joe’s shirts because Hoob was right, it had been pretty epic.

Joe just threw his fist out beside him and hit the wall with a bang. Webster and Hoob jumped, but they resumed their tasks as if nothing had happened. When Joe was like this, Grant normally let him burn himself out before trying to make contact so Webster just stayed the course. If Grant wasn’t here, at least maybe his methods would help. They would allow for some sense of normalcy.

“They are going to send him home,” Joe said, head now resting on the heel of his left hand. His right hung limply at his side. 

Well, at least he was verbal again.

“No, they’re not,” Webster said, still folding Joe’s shirts. It was mostly a reflex, but he found that in saying it out loud, he felt strangely bolder.

When Joe didn’t respond, Webster tossed the shirt in with the others and walked over to where Joe was braced against the wall.

“Look at me,” Webster said.

Joe looked up and Webster almost wished he hadn’t because the look in Joe’s eyes was so broken. Maybe it was that look that made Webster reach out and squeeze Joe’s shoulder. Once it was there, he couldn’t pull away.

“They aren’t going to send him home,” Webster said. “Speirs wouldn’t let them.”

“Speirs isn’t actually in charge of anything,” Joe snapped.

Well, at least he was fighting again.

“He doesn’t have to be,” Webster said. “He’ll burn this place down before he lets them send Grant home. And we’re going to be right there to help light the matches because nobody is going to take our fuckin’ cabin leader.”

Joe nodded and as he did, Webster watched something far more dangerous fill his eyes.

“Yeah,” Hoob said, coming over to sit with them. “We aren’t just going to lay down and take this shit. We’re not going to give the fucker the satisfaction.”

*~*

Nix hated rainy days. They had to keep the boys indoors as much as possible and this group shouldn’t spend that much time with each other. Not to mention that the only things they had to keep them occupied were crafts and board games. Those were a tough sell. Nix was relieved when the weather let up in the evening. Sure, it would still be too wet for the boys to use Buck’s precious field, but the rest of the activities could at least resume. Things got really bad if they had to keep the boys inside for more than one day.

Nix was mostly just relieved that his shift as babysitter was over and he could go back to his cabin. When he got there, Dick was sitting on one of their beds. Nix wasn’t exactly sure which one was his, but he was sure it didn’t matter at this point. Dick’s face was buried in a book called Paintball Tactics. Nix couldn’t help it, he groaned out loud. To his credit, Dick did lower the book and look at Nix.

“Again?” Nix asked, gesturing to the book.

Dick sighed and continued reading.

“You know, I’m starting to feel neglected,” Nix said as he shrugged off his raincoat.

Dick patted the bed next to him without looking up from the book. Nix rolled his eyes and headed over there because he was easy like that. He was about halfway there when there was a knock at the door. Nix turned around to see Luz standing at the door pushing his wet hair out of his face.

“Come on in, Luz,” Nix said, detouring to the other bed on his and Dick’s side of the cabin.

When Luz walked in, Nix could tell something was off. There were no jokes and no impressions. Hell, Luz wasn’t even smiling.

“Counselor Winters, do you have a moment?” Luz asked.

“Jesus, this must be serious,” Nix said. Luz was at that transition point. He wasn’t yet a counselor, but Nix could tell that he was starting to outgrow cabin leader. He’d started that slide into familiarity. Buck practically treated him like he already had the job. So with age came the ability to use nicknames or at the very least, just last names. So when Luz reverted back to formalities, Nix felt sick to his stomach.

“It is, sir,” Luz said.

And now he was calling Nix ‘sir’. Had a kid died in the time it took Nix to get back to the cabin?

“What’s wrong, Luz?” Dick asked.

“Did you know our cabins were inspected today sir?”

Nix hated cabin inspections. It was the moronic idea of someone that ran this place to do random inspections under the guise of the Cabin of the Camp contest. It was just a front so that they could search for contraband. Nix also thought it was mostly to feed Sobel’s ego and he didn’t think he was the only one who thought so. They always had problems after Sobel tossed the boys’ bunks. He’d broken personal items in the past. He’d even damaged camp property. The worst problems were when he actually found contraband. Dick had a pretty loose policy on contraband. If he didn’t see it, it wasn’t there. The boys sometimes took this tactic as approval, which it couldn’t be because it was still against the rules. Nix’s policy was that if you couldn’t hide it, you didn’t deserve to have it. Nix had managed to get six bottles of hard liquor into this place. It wasn’t that hard, you just needed to be a little creative. Luz was old hat at this by now, so he knew better then to come to Dick expecting to get a candy bar back.

“No I didn’t, they tend not to tell me,” Dick replied.

Yet another thing that pissed Nix off about the whole system of cabin inspections. Nix would have liked a little warning if his whole day was going to get shot to shit.

“Well, it doesn’t bother me that he does it because anything I don’t want him to have, I can hide. It doesn’t even bother me that I had to get Buck to get me new sheets because mine were torn. What bothers me is when he starts terrorizing my fellow campers. I don’t know what he did to Roe, I don’t know what his side is. I don’t even really care. It doesn’t matter because whatever happened, that kid was terrified and I can’t imagine that he did anything to deserve it. No one deserves that. Came into that damn cabin to find the kid in the throes of what I can only guess was a panic attack. He’s gone to too far this year. I’m used to Sobel’s brand of crazy, but it’s different this year. He’d piss them off, he’d make them crazy...but he never used to reduce them to tears.”

“I’ll have a word with him first thing in the morning, Luz.” Nix could see the rage building in Dick’s features, even if it didn’t change the measured even tone of his voice. This was one counselors’ meeting Nix was not looking forward to.

“Make it a strong one,” Luz said. “Because today it’s me doing this right and observing leadership structure. Tomorrow it’s Babe, doing God knows what because that boy is gone on Roe. And fuck knows what is going on in four because you can tell Grant is at his limit and that was before we got tossed. We both know he won’t come here when he passes his limit.”

Nix sighed. Cabin four was consistently a problem, or at least it had been since Ron had started summer camp. Since he got into leadership, things had gotten worse. Four had become almost a self-governing unit that doled out their own justice and fixed their own problems. Growing up in this environment, Grant had adopted it without question and still took all of his problems to Ron. The last thing they needed was for Ron to get involved with something Sobel related.

“Thanks, Luz,” Dick said.

Luz nodded and left the room.

“Fuck,” Nix said once Luz had left.

“When it rains, it pours,” Dick said.

Nix sighed. They couldn’t get rid of Sobel any faster than they could get rid of Dike. It was even more difficult since you actually had to have special training to take over the kitchens. That didn’t mean that Dick wouldn’t torture himself trying to figure out a way and of course Nix would be along for the ride.

*~*

Carwood locked the craft room door, relieved that the day was finally over and thankful it had finally stopped raining. It was longest day that he’d ever had since he’d started camp. No teenaged boy should be required to attend crafts for more than an hour. Right now, all he wanted to do was take a quick shower and fall asleep in Ron’s bed. He was walking back to the cabin when he saw Charles Grant walking towards him.

“Lip, do you know where Speirs is?”

There was something off in the way that he asked it, something that sounded lost.

“I think he’s back at the cabin. His patience for a rain day ran out a couple of hours ago,” Carwood said.

“Thanks,” Grant said before he took off walking in the direction of the cabin.

“Hey Grant, what’s wrong?” Carwood asked, now genuinely worried.

“It’s…” Grant paused, considering what he was about to say. “You know what Lip, you’re probably better off not knowing. If you’re not mixed up in this, you don’t want to be.” Grant nodded and resumed his walk.

“Grant if you’re in some kind of trouble…”

“I’m not yet…well not a lot yet, but I’m about to get into big trouble so you don’t want any part of this,” Grant said.

“What happened?”

Grant rubbed one of his fingers across the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Sobel confiscated Lieb’s comic books and Web’s journal as contraband.”

“Jesus,” Carwood swore. “Listen, let’s go to Winters and tell him what happened. I’m sure there is something he can do.”

Grant laughed darkly. “That never works. Winters gives him a talking to, sends him to bed without his supper. And maybe it works for a couple of days, but it never lasts. And it sure as shit isn’t going to get them their stuff back. That’s all I want to do. Sobel’s going to report me in the morning and I might get sent home. If I do one thing before I go, I want to get them that stuff back because I told them it would be safe. Speirs knows how to do that, he’s done it before. Well, that’s the rumor anyway. So I’ll save diplomacy for a more civilized enemy. Right now I need action.”

Grant looked so disappointed with himself that Carwood caved. “Ok, let’s go get Ron.”

They found Ron right where Carwood thought he would be, sitting on his bed in the cabin with a paintball gun in pieces around him. Besides Ron though, the cabin was empty.

“Christ,” Ron said, looking down the barrel. “You two look like someone’s died.”

“It’s Sobel,” Grant said.

Ron lowered the barrel and gave Grant his full attention.

“He took Liebgott’s comics and Webster’s journal. And I want to get them back, I’m almost certain you know how to do that. So tell me what I have to do and I’ll get out of your way.”

“If he catches you…”

Grant cut Ron off. “I’ve already been threatened with a ride to the airport once today, I figure I might as well earn it. And before you ask, I lost my temper. I know it was stupid and it would make my night a lot easier if I didn’t have to cap off this evening with your disappointment.”

“This is crazy,” Carwood said. “You’re not breaking in anywhere, mostly because I’m pretty sure Sobel would just call the cops. I’ll do it.”

Both Grant and Ron turned to look at him like they’d never seen him before in their lives.

“What?”

“Ok,” Ron said. “You are not doing this alone.” He pointed at Carwood, before turning to Grant. “You are not doing this at all. You are going to go to Winters and tell him everything, including how very sorry you are.”

“You actually think that’s going to work?” Grant asked.

“Of course not,” Ron said. “But when this stuff goes missing, you are going to need an alibi.”

Grant shook his head and Carwood watched him smile for the first time that night.

“I know,” Ron said. “Just fake it. Come on Lip, let’s go commit a B&E.” 

The trio left the cabin. Grant broke off to head next door and Carwood followed Ron up towards the main part of camp.

“Where are we going?” Carwood asked.

“You just now want to know that information?”

“Seemed like as good a time as any.”

Ron laughed. “We are going around the back of the multipurpose room. I’m going to pick the lock and hope that Sobel hasn’t moved his stash of stolen goods.”

“He has stash?” Carwood asked. “What am I saying, of course he does! Because he would be the kind of asshole that would have tangible proof that he’s an asshole.”

“I have to say anger on you is kinda hot,” Ron said, turning around and walking backwards while smiling at Carwood.

Carwood rolled his eyes. “So what am I doing on this grand adventure?”

“Holding the flashlight and running away if I get caught,” Ron said, turning back around and walking in the right direction.

“Nothing more challenging than that?”

“Hey, I’ve never done it this way before.”

Carwood stopped walking and hoped that his expression conveyed confusion.

“The last time I did this I was fifteen, at least six inches shorter, and they cut the tree down that I used to climb through the window.”

“It’s moments like this that I’m glad that I wasn’t a counselor when you were attending,” Carwood said, shaking his head.

Ron smiled. “But we could have had some fun if you were a camper too.”

“Probably,” Carwood said smiling, wondering if he’d have turned out the same if Ron had gotten his hooks in when he was younger. Maybe it would have changed them both.

They walked the rest of the way to the multipurpose room in silence. When they got there, Carwood was surprised by how quickly Ron was able to pick a lock. Sure he knew he’d been doing all summer to the craft room door, but Carwood had envisioned it taking longer. He also decided that he didn’t know why this was a skill Ron thought he needed. Standing out there in the dark was never more nerve racking, especially when it started to take a little longer then Carwood thought it should.

“Did you know that the binding on one of these is broken?”

Carwood jumped, dropped the flashlight, and turned around to glare at Ron. Ron was standing there holding Lieb’s comics, Web’s journal, and a green apple that he’d already taken a bite out of.

“How?”

Ron laughed. “I had to lock that door from the inside, so I left though the loading dock doors that lock automatically. I picked up the apple on the way through the kitchen and got one for you in my pocket. It would have been easier, but I didn’t realize one was broken and the pages dropped out on me.”

“Let me see,” Carwood said, holding out his hand. Ron handed him the smallest of the novels and Carwood opened it. The last page was the only one still attached to the binding. “I can fix this, I have everything I need in the craft room.”

“Really?” Ron sounded surprised.

“Yeah, this happens sometimes at the library I work at during the school year.”

Once they got to the craft room, he searched for the plastic glue and covered the binding in it. Then he carefully placed the pages back into the binding. He closed the covers and wiped up the excess glue. “There,” Carwood said and he wrapped a couple of rubber bands around the cover to hold it all in place. “If Liebgott lets this sit overnight, it will be good as new.”

“Can you fix this?” Ron asked, removing a section of pages from the Marvel comic book in his hand.

“Yeah, but I would need a bone folder like we have at the library,” Carwood said, looking at the book. “Without it I can’t fold the pages in right and they will hang out from the rest. If he mailed it to me, I could fix it. I could probably get it laminated so this doesn’t get any worse.” Carwood tapped the tear on the cover. He wrote his address and a note and stuck it inside the book.

“You want to be Santa Claus?” Ron held out the stack of books.

“You did all the work?”

“Yeah, but this isn’t really my area,” Ron said as Carwood took the books. “Taking credit for something, being the good guy…yeah, I’m not built for that.”

“I’m still going to tell them you did it,” Carwood said.

“Knock yourself out,” Ron said, hopping off the counter that he’d been sitting on. “Tell Grant to put those in the floor.”

Carwood walked to cabin four alone, the second they left the craft room Ron had headed off in the direction of the counselor cabins. As he walked up to cabin four, Carwood could hear voices.

“Nix said if they sent everyone home that mouthed off to Sobel, there wouldn’t be anyone left in camp.”

“So they aren’t going to send you home?”

“We’ll see, Sobel doesn’t really have the high ground since he stole from you first.”

Carwood walked around to the front of the cabin to find Grant and Liebgott sitting on the cabin steps, the building behind them was dark.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who these belong to, would you, Lieb?” Carwood asked holding out Liebgott’s novels.

“Holy shit, where did you get these?” Liebgott asked, reaching out to take the novels and the journal.

“He wishes to remain anonymous,” Carwood said. “I fixed the one with the loose binding, you can take the rubber bands off in the morning.”

“Thanks Lip,” Liebgott said, looking down at the bundle in his arms. “Thank Speirs for me, would ya?”

Carwood smiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Liebgott smiled.

“I was told to tell you to put those in the floor?”

“We got it covered,” Grant said, he was smiling too.

“Ok, see you boys in the morning,” Carwood said as he walked towards the counselor cabins. When they came into view, Carwood could see that Ron was sitting on the front steps smoking a cigarette.

“Still have my apple?”

“I do actually.” Ron reached into the pocket of his raincoat and pulled out a green apple.

“Thanks,” Carwood said, taking it and sitting down next to Ron. “So what did you get back?”

“How long have you be dying to ask that?” Ron asked, flicking the cigarette. 

“About a half an hour,” Carwood said.

Ron smiled and held up his lighter. “Sobel was a cabin leader, not my cabin leader thank god, but he saw me with this one day. Unlike some of the stuff he takes now, this is actually contraband, or at least it was when I was camper. So he ratted me out and I was pissed. To give me something else to think about besides breaking his face, I figured out how to get it back.”

“Is that why Harry calls you Sparky, because of the lighter?”

“Who knows why Harry does anything,” Ron said smiling and putting the lighter back into his pocket.

“So that’s what started all this between you and Sobel?” Carwood asked.

“Such humble beginnings,” Ron said, raising his eyebrows. “See back then, they used give you your shit back at the end of the year. So when Sobel found out my lighter wasn’t there…” Ron smiled at the memory. “They searched all my stuff, even had me turn out my pockets and it wasn’t there.”

“It was under the floor in the cabin,” Carwood said, finally understanding what Ron’s earlier words had meant.

“Yep. Harry bottomed out a canoe on purpose and we used the wood to build a cubby under the floor,” Ron said.

“At fifteen,” Carwood said, shaking his head. “You and Harry in the same cabin.”

“Yeah, we were trouble,” Ron said. “Between Harry running over to see Kitty, me stealing shit, and then there was the crap we pulled together.”

“Even then there was Kitty?” The thought made Carwood smile.

“Even then. As far as I know, they rolled her bassinet up to his at the hospital and said ‘Harry meet your wife’ and he never looked anywhere else. Speak of the devil.”

Carwood watched as Harry strolled over to where they were.

“What are you boys still doing up?” Harry asked.

“I’m sure you’ll find out about it in the morning,” Ron said.

“Sparky, have you been getting into trouble without me?” Harry clapped a hand over his chest. “And here I thought Lip would straighten you out. Turns out you’ve corrupted him.”

“I don’t know, he’s pretty adventurous all on his own,” Ron said, smiling and crushing his cigarette under his shoe.


	10. Ten

Roe tried and failed to stifle a yawn as he pushed his spaghetti around with his fork.

“You going to make it or are you gonna fall asleep on my shoulder?” Babe asked.

“Maybe,” Roe said around another yawn.

The pairing of medic training and endurance swimming was proving to be a formidable combination. He’d pushed himself harder that day because he’d missed a day and right now he was starting to think that might have been a bad idea.

“Maybe which one?” Babe asked.

Roe smiled because he really wasn’t sure. Today had been a marked improvement over yesterday. When his fellow campers could see him excelling at something, they forgot to feel sorry for him. When he’d gotten back the night before, someone had put his footlocker back in order. Roe reasoned it was Muck because when’d he’d gotten back to the cabin, Muck gave him a hug and told him he was sorry he wasn’t there. It would make sense that Luz would tell Muck. Roe appreciated the gesture, but that didn’t mean he felt less like basket case. The sympathy hadn’t come without its perks though, because Babe had slept over. No one had said anything about it outside of Penkala’s ‘good night boys’ when walking by their bed. There had been something quietly reassuring about sleeping with Babe’s arm wrapped around his middle and his soft breath on the back of Roe’s neck. He wondered if that would only happen when he was an emotional wreck or if he could convince Babe to do it again.

He did perk up a bit when Counselor Martin walked by and dropped a letter off for Bill, since he’d been waiting for something from his mom for a couple of days.

“Ahh, is that from darling Frannie?” Luz asked, the smile on his face said he already knew the answer.

“Shut up Luz,” Bill said, sliding the letter off the table and putting it on the bench beside him.

Roe had just returned his attention to his dinner when Lip came over to where he was sitting and leaned down beside him.

“I was told to tell you that the next time your mom sends you candy, she needs to cut the bags open and let the air out of the bags to wrap them up tightly so they don’t shake,” Lip whispered as he set the large mailing envelope next to Roe’s tray.

“Thanks Lip,” Roe said, sliding the package a little closer to his tray.

Lip smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze before he returned to handing out the mail.

“Is this what I think it is?” Babe poked the package with the back of his fork.

Roe smiled. “I’m going to go dump my tray.”

“I love your mom,” Babe said as he picked up both their trays. “I got this, just get that out of here.”

Roe nodded and picked up the package very carefully, trying not to shake it. Since the inspections the day before, everyone was on edge. Not so much because of what had happened to them, but because by now everyone had heard what had happened in four. Roe hadn’t talked to anyone in four, but Popeye had relayed the whole story of the stolen comic books at lunch. To say that Liebgott was in a mood was putting it quite mildly. The only reason he hadn’t gotten into a fight yet was because everyone was being so understanding. Though Roe could tell people were starting to reconsider that. Roe stopped when he got outside the multipurpose room and waited for Babe. When he finally got there, they took of a walk down to the boat dock and to Roe it felt like they were doing something way worse than just heading out there to eat candy. Somewhere around the cabins, it started to feel like they were spies or something, considering they were being so careful.

“Your mom really is my hero,” Babe said as he dug into his cargo shorts and pulled out his pocket knife. He handed it to Roe who got the envelope and opened it. On top was a folded piece white paper that Roe put in his pocket.

“You aren’t going to read it?” Babe asked.

“I thought you’d want to get to the good part?”

Babe made a carry on gesture and Roe took the note out of his pocket and read, “Dear sweetie…”

“Aww,” Babe said.

Roe sighed and continued. “I hope this letter finds you the winner of a prize in swimming, a better archer and the loser of at least one hand of rummy against Babe. If none of these things are true, know that I still love you anyway. I look forward to receiving the birdhouse and I repainted the table for its arrival. Be proud of me, I actually finished one of my projects. Inform Muck that in an effort to counterbalance Penkala’s negative energy, I have been lighting candles at church for your victory. I miss you terribly, the house feels very empty without you, though I am overjoyed to hear that you are having fun! I very much like the sound of Babe, it seems that you have chosen your one friend wisely. Be sure to let him know that I will be returning you to camp next year regardless of any resistance. I have preregistered you for next year and I have received the confirmation email. I would be willing to forward it to him if he would find that reassuring. You should also tell him that if he were to arrive in Georgia a few days early next year, I have a guest bedroom he could stay in. I might need his assistance should I meet any resistance. I’m certain he would be helpful. Provided his parents approve and he may assure them he will not be any trouble. I look forward to meeting him when I pick you up. Also, I am willing to create a letters for M&Ms system. Love, Mama.”

When Roe finished reading, he looked over at Babe.

“Wow,” he said. “I don’t know which is cooler. That your mom is using prayer candles to help you guys win Cabin of the Camp or that I’m invited to your house and she hasn’t even met me yet.”

Roe smiled. “She’s going to be crushed then I tell her no prizes at swimming and Speirs declared me hopeless at archery. But hey, you have won a hand of cards.”

“She set that bar pretty low,” Babe said. “Wait until you tell her that you’ve been promoted to medic and that you turned a counselor into a zombie.” 

Roe started laughing. “Without context that sounds so bad.”

“And I glossed over the part about us being chased through the woods by our zombie archery instructor.”

Roe was still smiling when he handed Babe the bag of peanut butter M&Ms his mom had sent in addition to the plain ones. “Here, these are for you.”

“Your mom sent me candy?” Babe said, taking the bag as if it were something very delicate.

“Course she did. You’re my friend,” Roe said. “I haven’t always had one of those so it’s somewhat of novelty.”

“Do you think she’ll still be as keen on me when she finds out we spent the better part of the summer making out?”

“She’s not going to be wild about the sneaking out bit, but I don’t think the kissing will phase her.”

“Good because I’m pretty fond of the kissing,” Babe said.

“Me too,” Roe said before leaning over to kiss Babe, just prove his point.

*~*

“Well I have to say, Joe. I’m pretty sure everyone bought that you lost your comics last night,” Webster said as he sat down on his bed.

Joe laughed as he flopped down on his bed.

“Inspired performances on both your parts,” Grant said as he started setting up the Monopoly board that they had conveniently forgotten to return when they went to breakfast. Grant had said it might be best that they not be seen with the confiscated items until the heat wore off. It was also his idea for them to fake public outrage for the first day. After all, it was important that Winters believed their version of the events. 

Webster had the simple task of pulling off disappointment and sadness. These emotions were easiest to pull off in Lip’s presence since Webster regretted that he hadn’t gotten a chance to thank him too. Joe, though, had been given the far more complicated task of keeping unbridled anger rolling for the better part of the day. This was a challenge considering that since Lip and Speirs had bested Sobel at his own game, Joe had been positively gleeful. This fact was demonstrated by the way that he’d practically leaped into Webster’s bed to present him with his journal the night before. But somehow Joe had managed to tap into something and as a result, convinced most everyone that he was barely containing an unchecked fury. Webster had been concerned he might get his ass kicked, but most of the camp seemed to find him justified.

“I’m going to take a shower before we start,” Hoob said as he stepped over the board game.

“Thanks Hoob,” Joe said, grinning practically from ear to ear.

Hoob threw his washcloth at Joe only to have it caught and thrown back at him.

“I don’t know which it more terrifying,” Webster said, getting up to go sit on the floor with Grant. “You playing pissed off asshole or this.”

“Definitely, this hysterical joy he has going on here,” Grant said, counting out the money for the four of them.

Webster started laying out the real-estate and organizing it as Joe joined them on the floor.

“Web, are you still going to play the really lame thimble?” Joe asked.

“I have won many an online game with the thimble,” Webster said. Webster had always played with the thimble online because of the little mouse tail under it animated as it moved around the board.

“Such a nerd,” Joe said, shaking his head and placing the thimble next to Grant’s car, Hoob’s dog, and his horse.

“Where the hell are they?”

Webster turned around to see that counselor Sobel hadn’t even made it to the door before he started screaming at them. They had expected this was coming and Grant had told them to just stay out of the way. Joe had resisted, but Grant had remained firm that he was going to handle this. Grant got up off the floor, putting himself between them and the oncoming assault. Sobel opened the door with so much force that Webster was surprised that it stayed on its hinges. Once inside the cabin, he closed the distance between him and Grant.

“Confiscated items were stolen from my store room! Where the hell are they?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Grant said. Not moving or backing down, he held Sobel’s gaze. What had changed was the way he said it. He didn’t scream and his voice didn’t tremble around anger. This was the cold steely determination of someone who knew he’d already won.

“I’ll tear this cabin apart,” Sobel threatened.

“Be my guest,” Grant said and this time Webster was standing in such a way that he could see Sobel’s face twist into something nasty.

He set on Grant’s bed first, most likely hoping to provoke a response. Grant watched with passive boredom as Sobel upturned the mattress, flung the sheets across the room, and emptied the contents of his footlocker onto the floor. Sobel was shaking with anger when he finished the pointless exercise.

“Did you really think I’d be that stupid?” Grant chuckled as he said the words.

Sobel rounded on Hoob’s bed and Joe had to duck to keep from taking Hoob’s pillow to the head. The sheets were torn from the mattress and Webster heard the fabric rip. Hoob’s footlocker was simply overturned, Hoob’s belongings spilling out onto the floor.

It was then that Webster heard a gasp from the door. Neither Grant nor Sobel noticed that Hoob had returned from his shower and was standing on the cabin’s porch. Their attention was trained on Sobel pawing through the items on the floor. They also didn’t notice when he dropped his shower bag and took off running.

Apparently Joe did, because he leaned into Webster and hissed, “The fuck?”

Sobel shoved past Grant to get to Webster’s bed. He turned the mattress over and it slammed into the floor. At least his bedding had survived its encounter with Sobel. As he watched his clothing fly around the room, he doubted he’d ever find his all socks. It was at this moment that it first occurred to Webster to be afraid. Not because he believed that Sobel would actually find anything. He had already proved that he lacked the imagination to see the floor as a hiding place. The problem Webster now foresaw was what happened when he didn’t?

That question was soon to have an answer as Sobel set upon Joe’s bed. After yanking the blanket back and finding nothing but fitted sheet, Sobel heaved the mattress into the air and pushed it with such force towards the open window that that he popped the screen, sending half the mattress through it and Joe’s pillow off into the night. Sobel rounded on Joe’s footlocker. He seized the extra pillow that Joe had used when he’d been hit in the face. Webster watched in horror as Sobel tore it in half. The pillow’s inners floated into the air as it was cast aside. Joe’s footlocker was upturned and like Hoob’s, its contents spilled out onto the floor.

“I know you have them,” Sobel said, obviously enraged.

“Then you should be able to find them.” Grant’s voice was calm and measured, no small feat in the face of such rage.

In that moment, the transformation was complete. The presence and command that Grant had sought for all summer were finally his. He hadn’t lost his temper, but rather had remained unemotional and detached from the madness swirling around him. And as he as he moved towards Sobel, Webster watched for the first time as intimidation settled on Charles Grant’s shoulders and rested comfortably at his wrists. He’d finally grown into role he desired to play.

“But you can’t because they’re not here.”

Webster wasn’t the only one that noticed Grant’s transformation from angry youth into formidable adult. Sobel had seen it too, he’d watched as defiance slid into something more dangerous. Webster wondered if Sobel even saw Grant anymore or if dark hair and green eyes shining with rebellion had manifested right before his eyes. If it had, it might explain why Sobel raised his hand and struck Grant across the face. Grant turned with the blow, his hand coming up to touch his no doubt stinging mouth.

“Well, that was stupid. I’ve been waiting for a reason to kick your ass all summer. Thank you for finally providing it.”

Webster now understood why Hoob had left in such a hurry. Watching Sobel upend his belongings must have terrified him and in his horror, he sought out the person most capable of combating that kind of rage. Speirs stood in their cabin doorway with Hoob standing tall behind him. Hoob had bought the cavalry and he would no longer be frightened.

“You struck a camper,” Speirs said, tilting his head to the side as if trying to convey confusion as he walked calmly towards Sobel. “Tell me. How did you envision this playing out now? You’d charge down here all rage and fury and they’d just give you what you wanted? Well,” He looked around the room with a smile. “Clearly that didn’t work. So what next, you thought you could scare them into submission? Not this cabin. So what moves are left? Convince Sink to take your side over a bleeding cabin leader’s? What about these boys? Do you think you can buy their silence? There is nothing you have that they would love more than him. You’re fucked,” Speirs said as he shoved Sobel backwards.

The back of Sobel legs contacted with Hoob’s footlocker and sent him sprawling out on the floor. Grant smiled around his bleeding lip and walked over to Sobel’s crumpled form. He showed Sobel his fingers shining with blood before flicking them and casting red spots of blood onto Sobel’s shirt.

“And you have my blood on your shirt. That’s going to be awkward for you.” Grant’s smile full of bloody teeth as he drew away from Sobel even made Webster cringe. “You know, I’m actually looking forward to watching you try and twist your way out of this one.”

“I’ll inform the Chief Counselor that I have my suspicions that Counselor Lipton stole contraband and returned it to the boys of this cabin,” Sobel said, smirking like he’d managed to salvage a victory.

Speirs leaned over Sobel and the fists that clenched in Sobel’s camp shirt and drew him up to Speirs’ face were shaking. When he spoke, his voice was as eerily calm as it had been before. “Allow me to inform you that if you attempt to do that, I’ll shatter your kneecaps with a hammer. Do you understand me? You cause him trouble and you’ll never walk again.”

Speirs then adjusted his hold so that it could be used to drag Sobel from one end of the cabin to the other. Once he reached the door, he kicked it open before dragging Sobel to the end of the porch and tossing him down the stairs with Sobel landing in a heap on the pavement.

*~*

“That was terribly inconvenient,” Nix said as he and Dick left the multipurpose room. “The nerve of some people not being where they should be when you want to lecture them.”

Dick smiled and shook his head. It was a small smile, but at this point Nix would take it. The mood in their cabin had been sullen since Luz arrived to tell them that not only was Sobel up to his own tricks, but he had terrifying new ones. This act was followed by Grant who told them a sordid tale of stolen comic books. It was now clear that they couldn’t just wait this one out, they were going to have to actually do something. Sink was, as predicted, no help. He told Dick to bring Sobel in line. Like that was just something you could do, or that they hadn’t tried to do last summer. Or the summer before that come to think of it. Sobel was drunk on power and campers’ disdain. Once you had given someone that kind of power, it was impossible to get them to give it up. Besides, Sobel had them by the balls and he knew it. The state mandated that the person in charge of their kitchens take a special class and guess who was the only one to do that?

So after a completely unhelpful meeting with Sink, they had gone to try to lecture Sobel into compliance. That had never worked before, but what choice did they have? Nix knew this lecture would have been different since Sobel had stolen something. And that something had come from someone who didn’t have a lot to begin with. Nix had thought on the way over there that Dick might actually take a swing at him. He’d actually been relieved that Sobel hadn’t been hiding in his lair when they got there.

“Hey, let’s just go back to the cabin and you can chew him out first thing in the morning,” Nix said.

“It’s what he’s getting up to in the meantime that worries me,” Dick said as they walked in the direction of their cabin.

They were nearly there when a shout rang out in the night and Nix winced as he heard it.

“FIGHT!”

Dick immediately took off running in the direction of the boys’ cabins. “Shit,” Nix said before he followed after him. As they ran, he heard footfalls behind him and he turned to see Buck and Lip running after them. When they got to the cabins, it was obvious that cabin four was the source of the commotion. Why was it that when there was a problem it was always cabin four? Since the days of Ron and Harry, if there was trouble in camp, it started in four.

Ron was standing on the stairs of the cabin yelling at the other boys to, “Get the fuck back inside.”

Nix had just caught up to Dick when he saw Sobel trying to right himself from where he was laid out on the dirt. Nix was grateful to notice that other than the one his pride his took, he didn’t seem to be sporting any injuries.

Behind Ron on the top step was Grant, whose lip appeared to be bleeding. Nix figured that explained how Sobel had ended up at the bottom of the stairs. By now everyone should have figured out that Grant was Ron’s favorite. And the prescription for harming him was always going to be violence. From the look of Sobel, Ron should be applauded for his restraint. Lined up behind Grant on the porch were the boys of cabin four. Liebgott stood in the center, flanked by Webster and Hoobler. Nix could tell by the looks on their faces that they were all going to be trouble in the future. All Sobel had accomplished was to unite this cabin and that would only make his life more difficult in the weeks and summers to come.

“And what seems to be going on here, Counselor Speirs?” Dick asked.

“Counselor Winters,” Sobel said as he got to his feet.

“Counselor Sobel, when I’m talking to you, you’ll know it,” Dick glared at Sobel.

Though Ron didn’t smile, Nix could see in his eyes that he was enjoying this. “Counselor Sobel attacked Grant under the mistaken impression that this cabin was hiding contraband. This was, of course, after he ransacked the place.”

“This wouldn’t happen to be the same items you reported stolen last night would they Grant?” Dick asked, still not breaking his glare away from Sobel.

“The very same, sir,” Grant said. He’d fished out a handkerchief to press against his lip. 

“So let me see if I understand this correctly,” Dick advanced on Sobel so that he could stare down his nose and watch Sobel shift uncomfortably. “You terrorized all four cabins yesterday, disturbed their living space, confiscated items from this cabin you had no right to, and then you took another run at them today? And when you raided them today, not only did you destroy the order of their cabin, but you assaulted their cabin leader? Is that about the size of it?”

“Counselor Winters, someone, and I suspect one of these boys, broke into a camp storage room and items were stolen-” Sobel started before Dick cut him off.

“I can’t imagine how any of that will matter when I relay this incident to Grant’s parents and they decided to charge you with assault. And make no mistake, those letters will go out first thing in the morning and then there’s my report to Chief Counselor Sink for you to consider. You’re a liability now and I imagine by this time tomorrow, you’ll be lucky to still have a job. But if by some miracle you still do, this is your first, last, and only warning. Confine yourself to the multipurpose room and the surrounding area.”

“The Chief Counselor will hear about this,” Sobel said.

“Will that be before or after you explain how Grant’s blood ended up on your camp shirt?” Dick asked.

Sobel’s hands clenched into fists before he stomped off towards the main part of camp.

“Now,” Dick said, walking over to the bottom of the cabin stairs. “Besides Grant, is anyone else injured?”

The other three boys shook their heads. Nix had to respect that Grant had most likely put himself between the boys and danger.

“That’s good,” Dick said. “Counselor Compton, will you take Grant to get him some ice for his face?”

“Sure thing,” Buck replied. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Grant turned back to look at the boys before heading down the stairs towards Buck.

“Liebgott, what is that in your hair?” Ron questioned as he moved toward the boy.

Liebgott pushed both hands through his hair, sending a piece of white fluff out into the night air. “Oh, that’s probably my pillow.”

“Your pillow?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, Sobel ripped my pillow in half,” Liebgott said. “I had a spare but the last time I saw it, it was heading out the window with half my mattress.”

Nix looked down the side of the building and sure enough, there was at least a quarter of a twin sized mattress sticking out one of the windows. Dick seemed to need a moment with that information because he paused before he spoke again. “Counselor Lipton, do think you could get Liebgott a new pillow?”

Webster cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure Hoob’s sheets were also ripped, sir.”

“Really?” Hoob said the word like that was just the limit. Everything up until now had been acceptable, but there was something about the loss of his sheets that crossed into the completely unreasonable. 

“Where do we keep those?” Lip asked.

“I’ll show him,” Ron said, walking down the stairs towards Lip. Nix figured it was probably a good idea to give Ron a chance to get his head on straight. Nix was sure Lip would know just how to do that.

*~*

As Carwood followed Ron up the hill, he didn’t know what say. Thank you for not beating the shit out Sobel. I’m sorry Grant got hurt. Maybe this will finally make it better? But everything he thought of seemed selfish, hollow, or placating at best. He wanted to say something, but he had no idea what Ron wanted…needed to hear.

“There are times when I really fuckin’ hate this camp,” Ron said as they walked.

“You protected those boys and that’s not nothing,” Carwood said.

“Hoob…” Ron paused and shook his head. “No kid should be that frightened at summer camp.”

“But he knew…” Carwood stopped and Ron followed suit. Carwood took Ron by the shoulders and made Ron meet his eyes. “He knew that you could protect him.”

“The storage cabin is over here.” Ron pointed and took off walking.

“Jesus fucking Christ! You are a good person and I will make you believe it, so help me. I don’t know what you think you are, but you are not the monster that destroys the village. If I accomplish nothing else this summer, I will get you to believe at least that.”

“You don’t fucking get it,” Ron said, rounding on Carwood. “All of that was my fault! The only reason he has it out for that fuckin’ cabin is because at one point I lived in it and had a problem with authority. He smacked Grant in the face because I taught him that you don’t give that piece of shit the satisfaction of backing down. He turned my inability to let shit fucking go into a model for how to be a cabin leader. Those boys got put through the wringer and it’s my fault. He was going to turn…”

Ron stopped as abruptly as he’d started before walking the rest of the way over to the vacant cabin and fished his keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and leaned into the door that seemed to not quite fit into the frame. Carwood followed him into a cabin that was just like the others the boys slept in. Instead of four beds and footlockers, this cabin was lined with shelves and mattresses still wrapped in plastic. Ron walked in and grabbed a pillow, also still in its plastic, off the first set of shelves.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Carwood said, leaning against the door frame. “You’re the reaction not the action.”

“I’m going to give you four sets of sheets,” Ron said as he stacked four bundles on top of the pillow. “After all the bullshit tonight, at least they can sleep on clean sheets.”

Ron walked over to where Carwood was still standing in the doorway. He held out the linens towards Carwood, one hand pressing the sheets down and the other underneath balancing the pillow. Carwood stared at the pile for a minute considering demanding that Ron walk them down there himself. He wanted to start a fight, he wanted to match Ron’s screaming with volume and heat of his own. He decided against it. It wouldn’t fix anything. Rome wasn’t built in a day, convincing Ron was going to be a project. Seeing Grant’s blood had shocked Ron into a place that he needed to find his own way out of. Carwood took the bundle the way it was offered, setting his hands next to Ron’s.

“I’ll meet you back at the cabin,” Ron said.

Accepting defeat, Carwood turned to walk back to cabin four. As he approached the cabin, he could see the boys reclaiming their space through the windows. Webster was standing on his footlocker, trying to bat his clothing out of the rafters with a broom. Grant was laying on his mattress that was still on the floor with a bag of ice on his face. Hoob was pulling his sheets from his bed, while Liebgott was heaving his footlocker back where it belonged.

When he reached the porch, Grant opened the door for him. “I brought down clean sheets for everyone. Ron figured everyone probably needed a new set.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” Grant said, taking four sets off the top of Carwood’s pile.

“Here you go, Lieb,” Carwood said, tossing the pillow to the boy.

Liebgott caught it, fluffing it in his hands. “This is actually better than my old one. Guess it all works out. Too bad Lip, you missed the part of the evening where your boyfriend defended your honor.”

“What are you talking about Lieb?” Carwood asked, figuring this was more than he’d ever get out of Ron so why not.

“Sobel was going to turn you over to Sink for stealing our stuff back so Speirs threatened to shatter his kneecaps with a hammer.”

He was going to turn you in. That’s what Ron had been about to say when he stopped. In one evening, Sobel had managed to reinforce to Ron that the people he cared about would be better off without him.

“You guys have a good night,” Carwood said as he turned to leave. He didn’t miss the confused expression that crossed Liebgott’s face. He’d probably thought that this would be good news. Ron had fixed something for him, so Liebgott figured why not help him out in return. It was good that Ron thought Carwood’s honor was his to defend. That Carwood was his to protect. What hurt was that Ron didn’t see himself as worthy of the loyalty and protection he so freely gave. Carwood ran back up the hill and caught Ron right as he was about to lock up the cabin.

Ron turned to face Carwood, probably to say something, but Carwood didn’t give him a chance. When he reached Ron on the porch of the cabin, he pulled Ron close and kissed him eagerly. Carwood didn’t have words to explain, so he hoped that actions would make up for it. At first Ron froze, most likely in surprise. As his lips started to move under Carwood’s, he started pulling them towards the door of the cabin. When Ron’s back hit the door, Carwood pushed forward and the door popped open behind them. They stumbled inside, but Ron recovered quickly. He slammed the door shut and pressed Carwood back against it. As he did, Carwood could feel Ron’s erection against his thigh. His mouth was hot against Carwood’s neck as he pressed open mouthed kisses against the skin.

“Wait here,” he whispered directly into Carwood’s ear.

Carwood made a noise of disappointment as Ron pulled away. He turned around and removed his knife from his pocket and cut the plastic encasing one of the mattress. He pushed the mattress onto the floor before removing the plastic completely. He repeated the action on the mattress next to it so that when he was finished they had a make shift bed consisting of two twin mattress. As Ron tossed the plastic into the corner, Carwood walked over to the bed and set about taking off his shoes and socks. He had just finished getting his last shoe off when Ron’s lips were back on his neck.

“You know this is probably as private as we are going to get,” Carwood said, leaning his head back to give Ron more room to work.

“Really?” Ron asked, stopping what he was doing. Carwood was just relieved that Ron had understood what he was asking for. “Because I have lube in my pocket.”

Carwood couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“What?” Ron asked. “I keep getting jumped in semi-public places, I figured it was better to be prepared.”

Carwood bit his lip.

“We don’t have to,” Ron started.

“I want to,” Carwood said.

Ron smiled and leaned back in to kiss Carwood. Carwood knew what he was doing, Ron was trying to reassure him with acts that were familiar. Carwood figured he should be embarrassed by how obvious it was that he hadn’t done this before. Ron’s fingers dipped under Carwood’s shirt and traveled up. Carwood got the hint and broke the kiss to pull it off over his head. When he was free of the fabric he saw that Ron had followed his lead.

“Just breathe,” Ron whispered. “I got you.”

Carwood nodded as Ron’s fingers went to work on the fly of his shorts. Ron pressed Carwood down onto the mattress as he removed his pants and boxers. He then set to work on his own pants, batting Carwood’s hand away because he could no doubt do this faster. Once he got them off, they dropped next to the bed with a thud and Ron returned his attention to mapping the inside of Carwood’s mouth with his tongue. Carwood’s fingers tangled in Ron’s hair on their own accord. He pulled ever so slightly as Ron rutted in to his thigh.

“Shit,” Ron swore, leaning back. “I don’t think I can do this and have you touching me.” What ‘this’ was became clear when Ron squeezed lube on to his fingers and reached behind himself.

“Fuck,” Carwood said because honestly he didn’t think he was capable of much more than that.

“That’s the idea,” Ron hissed as he rocked back slightly.

Carwood’s hands gripped Ron’s thighs because he needed something to hold onto, something to ground him. He’d thought about this ever since the first time he came down Ron’s throat, but this hadn’t been one of the ways he’d pictured it.

“Should have known you wouldn’t listen,” Ron said, his free hand gripping Carwood’s hand. Carwood watched as Ron’s teeth dragged over his bottom lip. His brow furrowed in concentration, the occasional gasp escaping his lips. It was mesmerizing to watch Ron’s face, the pleasure softened his features if only for a moment. Ron’s hand left his as he reached over and pulled a condom out of his shorts.

“This is so I don’t have to walk back down the hill with your cum running down my thighs,” Ron said before he tore the wrapper open with his teeth.

“You can’t say that shit when we’re naked,” Carwood gasped as Ron rolled the condom onto his cock.

Ron smirked by way of reply as he shifted and lined himself up. Carwood’s head tipped back and his eyes screwed shut as he slid into Ron’s body. Ron’s hands braced himself against Carwood’s chest. As he rolled his hips, Carwood gripped Ron’s thighs tighter knowing he was probably leaving finger shaped bruises behind. Carwood thrust his hips upward and Ron panted, “Come on, harder.”

After that it was like race, Carwood thrust up and Ron met his thrusts every time. The room filled with the sounds of their gasps, as Carwood took Ron’s cock in hand, finding a rhythm with his thrusts. Ron swore and rocked his hips down hard. Carwood felt Ron’s muscles clench around him as he felt him spill over his hand. Carwood was watching Ron’s face, the way his mouth went slack and his eyes shut. Ron still rolled his hips to meet Carwoods, but what set Carwood over the edge was when Ron opened his eyes. Carwood’s vision went white and when he regained control of his senses again, Ron was cleaning them up with a pillow case.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Ron said, discarding the case. “Because I’m not. But where the fuck did that come from?”

“Liebgott told me what you said to Sobel,” Carwood said, blushing a little at having to admit it.

“Threats of violence,” Ron made a considering noise. “I didn’t figure that would be on your list of turn-ons.”

“Me neither,” Carwood said. “I think I like that it was possessive.”

“You’re going to be sorry you said that,” Ron said, smirking down at Carwood. He couldn’t see how. If Ron wanted to take up ownership, that was fine by him.


	11. Eleven

“Oh come on, that can’t be all that happened,” Muck said, putting his hands on his hips. “I refuse to believe that is all that happened.”

“Jesus Muck, you live next door,” Grant said from where he was sitting leaning against a tree. “If you can’t eavesdrop better than that then I can’t help you.”

Grant was right, cabin three had had the ring side seats to the action the night before. But in Muck’s defense, it had gotten a little hard to hear once Winters closed in on Sobel. It hadn’t really mattered to Roe, Sobel was getting what he had coming. Roe didn’t need to sit there and watch in order to feel vindicated. The same could not be said for the other four boys in his cabin. Once Sobel had arrived, Muck, Penkala, Malarkey, and Babe had been glued to the two windows that faced cabin four like it was a drive-through movie. They had even followed the action out onto the porch before Speirs yelled at them to get back inside. The part that was grating on Muck was while it had been hard to hear Winters, it had been impossible to hear anything Speirs said inside the cabin. Without these valuable details, Muck’s story at breakfast had been found lacking by cabin one. Luz in particular had been disappointed.

“It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you won’t. If shit like that had gone down in my cabin, I’d give you the blow by blow.”

Well, Roe thought, that wasn’t completely true since Muck hadn’t told anyone about Roe’s nervous breakdown. 

“Like, for example, what the hell happened to your lip?”

“Walked into a door,” Grant smiled, but he winced slightly and stopped.

“They still going at it?” Liebgott said, sitting down next to Roe.

“Yeah,” Roe said, twisting a blade of grass between his fingers. “Your cabin leader is holding up well under questioning.” So well that most of the boys had cleared off, giving it up as hopeless.

Liebgott smiled. “Have they said anything about what we are doing if Dike doesn’t show up?”

“That would require Muck to abandon his quest of interrogating Grant,” Roe said. “He’s moments away from dragging him off to the ATV shed and hanging a single light bulb from the ceiling.”

Liebgott laughed. “You know, I heard if a counselor is ten minutes late, you can just leave?”

“Where did you hear that?” Roe asked.

“Luz,” Liebgott said, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Roe made a considering noise. “Malarkey said it was fifteen.”

Liebgott seemed to weight the sources before yelling for Grant. “Hey Grant, is it ten or fifteen minutes before we can leave?”

“It’s fifteen, and you have seven minutes left,” Grant said, looking at his watch.

“Fifteen?” Muck said, sounding outraged. “Who told you that? It’s only ten.”

“Speirs told us it was fifteen,” Grant said.

“Well, Nix told me it was ten,” Muck countered.

“Nix is your reliable source on camp rules?” Grant said, tilting his head to the side. “When was the last time you actually saw him follow one?”

Whatever Muck had been about to say died on his lips when there was a load crash followed by Webster screaming, “Hoob!”

Roe watched as most of the color drained from Liebgott’s face before he turned to look the direction of the noise. If Roe had heard Babe scream like that, he probably would have felt that way too. The three of them got up at about the same time and ran down the hill. All of them fell behind Grant who had taken off before any of them really knew what had happened. When Roe and Liebgott got to where the other boys were, it was clear that the crashing noise had come from where one of the ATVs had crashed into a tree. Also apparent was the reason why Webster had yelled about Hoob. In the passenger side of the ATV was Hoob. Webster was standing beside the ATV, holding his hand. Grant immediately proceeded to that side of the ATV.

“You ok, Hoob?” Grant asked, crouching down next to the ATV.

“I can’t get my foot loose,” Hoob said. His voice sounded small and pained.

“Ok, we’ll figure out a way to get you out of there,” Grant said. He got up and walked over to where Liebgott was standing. “Run over to archery and get Speirs.”

Liebgott nodded and took off running.

Grant walked back over to Hoob. “I sent Lieb to go get help.”

“You sent Lieb to get Speirs,” Hoob corrected. “You know he’s going to yell at me right?”

“It could go either way,” Grant said. “There’s a good chance he could yell at me. So what happened?”

“We were just driving and one of the tires blew and I lost control of the thing,” Penkala said.

“So this is your fault,” Grant said, standing up.

“No, because there wasn’t enough air in those god damn tries,” Penkala countered.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have been driving it to begin with,” Grant yelled.

“Or maybe, here’s a thought,” Muck said, trying to put himself between Penkala and Grant. “You know, just thinking out loud. Maybe you,” he looked at Grant. “Maybe you should acknowledge that this was not the goal.” Muck gestured to the ATV. “And yeah taking the thing out for a joy ride was stupid, but it would have happened in the course of driving it too. So maybe just recognize that Penk feels bad and you yelling at him isn’t really necessary. So maybe you should count to ten, because Speirs is going to yell at everyone anyway. And you,” He turned to look at Penkala. “You should probably go somewhere else while he does that.”

“Just in case you were wondering, this is why he’s a cabin leader,” Grant said, pointing to Muck. “And this is why you’re not.” Grant gestured to the ATV.

“Ok,” Muck said loudly as he tried to stop Penkala from rounding on the ATV. “Does anyone hear the words that come out of my mouth or am I just talking to myself?”

“What the fuck happened?”

Roe turned around to see Speirs, Lip and Liebgott running down towards them. Speirs was out front carrying an orange mallet, and Lip and Liebgott were keeping up behind him.

“Oh thank god,” Muck said and Roe was pretty sure he’d never seen Muck so relieved to see Speirs. 

*~*

“It hit the target,” Ron said and Carwood could tell that he was just barely holding back a smile.

“Wow, that is an astonishingly low bar you just set there,” Carwood said, glaring at Ron.

“What do you want me to say? It’s a moving target.” Ron threw up his hands. “It’s just not going to be as easy.”

“Yeah and the tire swing isn’t shooting back.”

“It could,” Ron smiled and fired a paintball next to Carwood’s foot.

Carwood was about to respond when they heard someone coming towards them yelling for ‘Speirs.’

“Shit,” Ron said, resting the paintball gun against his shoulder. “This is going to be bad. They could be on fire and they’d still look for someone else before coming to me.”

Liebgott topped the hill looking red faced and he practically sprinted to where they were standing. Around gasping breaths, he said, “Hoob’s hurt. They crashed an ATV, he’s stuck and Grant said I should get you.”

Ron ran over to the archery shed and grabbed a bright orange mallet from just inside the door. “Alright Liebgott, are they where the trails start?”

Liebgott nodded and they took off running. In the valley, sure enough, the remaining boys were crowded around an ATV that was crunched against a tree. 

“What the fuck happened?” Ron yelled as they got to the boys.

“Tire blew,” Penkala said, looking incredibly guilty.

“I’m going to kill him if I find him,” Ron muttered. He pushed through the boys to get to the ATV. He leaned down by the driver side and looked over the inside. “Lip, we’re going to have to put it in neutral and push it back.” Ron leaned into the cart and shifted the cart’s stick. “Unless you want to get run over, you should probably fuckin’ move,” Ron said to the boys surrounding the cart. Once they cleared, Carwood and Ron pushed the ATV back enough that it was clear of the tree. Ron put the ATV back into park. “Ok Hoob, don’t move.”

“Ok,” Hoob said, sounding remarkably brave considering the afternoon he’d had. Ron used the mallet to force the metal back enough that Hoob could slide out his foot.

“Alright,” Ron said, getting out of the driver’s seat. “Take off your shoe and your sock.”

Hoob did as he was told, his fingers shaking as he untied his laces. When he’d finished, he put his foot on the driver’s seat so Ron could look it over.

“Well, it’s not purple,” Ron said.

“Is that good?” Hoob asked.

“If it was broken, it would be swollen and bruised by now,” Ron said. “Does it hurt if I do this?” Ron pressed two of his fingers to the arch of Hoob’s foot and Hoob shook his head. “What about this?” Ron pressed his fingers a little about Hoob’s ankle.

“Not more than it did before,” Hoob said.

“Then you probably sprained it,” Ron said. “We’ll get you down the hill and get Winters to call you a doctor to make sure.”

With some creative shifting, they managed to get Hoob out of the ATV and into the back of another one that Ron declared had good tire pressure. Carwood was shocked by how many did not. Speirs sent Muck and cabin one to go tell Dick what happened and Grant said they would meet them at the bottom of the hill. They drove down to the back of the multipurpose room in silence. When they got there, they helped Hoob into a room that looked like the nurse’s room Carwood remembered from elementary school.

“It’s going to be ok, Hoob,” Carwood said, sitting down on the cot next to Hoob.

Hoob shook his head, “I’m not going to be able to go to paintball.”

“Oh sure you will,” Ron said, leaning against the wall by the bed. “We’ll get you a brace, you wear your hiking boots, and we’ll find you a sniper’s nest. Problem solved. Get Web or Lieb to run you ammo and you’re all set.”

As Hoob nodded, Carwood noticed a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“See? It will be ok,” Carwood said.

It was at that moment the door burst open so hard that it bounced off the wall as the other boys from four entered.

“I’m going to fuckin kill ‘em,” Grant said. “Him too,” he said, pointing at Hoob. Grant dropped into the chair reserved for the nurse. “Go ahead Web, tell ‘em what you did.”

Webster looked like he was going to be physically ill. “I forged my mother’s signature on the permission slip.”

“Christ almighty,” Ron said, dragging a hand across his face. “This week just keeps getting better and better.”

“Yeah, they all fucking knew about it and only thought to tell me about it five fuckin’ minutes ago,” Grant yelled.

“Why the fuck do you think that was?” Liebgott screamed. “First chance you get, you turn him in.”

“I fuckin’ have to, Joe. One of you has been walking around here without a valid medical release form! If Web had gotten hurt, we couldn’t have legally taken him to a doctor and we can’t call his goddamn parents because they are in India,” Grant yelled back.

“She signed the medical form,” Webster said in a small voice.

“Well that fixes fucking nothing,” Grant yelled. “They are still going to send letters out to parents. That’s the only reason you came clean in the first place.”

“Everybody fucking shut up,” Ron yelled. “I can’t fucking think with all of you screaming.”

The room lapsed into silence before Carwood looked over at Ron and asked, “Do we have to tell Winters?”

“Fuck no,” Ron said, but there was no heat in his voice. “Telling the truth is the absolute worst thing we can do right now. If we tell Dick, Web gets on a plane for home. And not including the last forty eight hours, we’ve been to doing remarkable better on the supervision front then two parents in India.”

“So what do we do about the letters?” Grant asked.

Ron sighed, “I’ll tell Sink that I want to write the letters to reassure your mother so she doesn’t sue us. He’ll be seeing liability everywhere so that will probably convince him. The last thing he wants is an LA district attorney showing up here. So I’ll take them into town to mail and dump Web’s in the trash when I get gas for the mower.”

After Ron explained his plan, the room relaxed considerably.

“So this doesn’t leave this room,” Ron said. “Lip and I aren’t going to say anything. But, and I know how this sounds coming from me, you guys have got to stay out of trouble. Because we might not be able to stop them from contacting your parents next time.”

The three boys nodded.

“And you,” Ron said, pointing at Liebgott. “You have to let him out of the dog house.” Ron gestured over his shoulder at Grant. “He couldn’t have fixed this on his own and someone had to or they could have shut this place down. You holding this against him for rest of the summer isn’t fair. You guys dumped a shit situation on him and he did the best he could.” 

Liebgott shifted a bit, before nodding. Carwood watched as the anger started to leave Liebgott’s posture as he looked across the room at Grant.

*~*

Nix was sitting on the shore by the lake. He was pretending he was asleep, but mostly he was watching Dick from behind his sunglasses. There were very few things that Nix enjoyed doing at camp more than watching a wet Dick Winters teach a swim class. So he was more than a little pissed when Muck came running over to the lake screaming for ‘Winters’ and killed it. His anger only intensified when Muck told them about Dike’s inability to handle simple ATV care. After that, he did what any good boyfriend would do. He followed his boyfriend to face the firing squad. So he stood with Dick outside of Sink’s office while they waited for him to call Hoob a doctor.

“This is bullshit,” Nix hissed in a whisper. “He can’t put this on you. We warned him Dike wasn’t pulling his weight.”

“I’m still in charge,” Dick said, still managing to look dignified while he dripped lake water on the tiles of the hallway.

“Where is Dike? I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” Nix hissed.

“You’ll probably have to get in line behind Ron and Buck,” Dick said.

“Fuck ‘em, they can hold him down. If he fucks this up for you, I get first dibs,” Nix said, fidgeting with his sunglasses.

A small smile pulled at the corners of Dick’s mouth, but it was gone before it really got a chance to form. It calmly hid behind a mask as Sink opened his office door.

“Where is the boy now?” Sink asked.

“Speirs took him to the first aid room,” Dick said.

“We are going to have to sort this out in the manner that’s best for the camp,” Sink said as they walked down the hall to the first aid room.

You mean in the way that covers your ass, Nix thought, but he had the good sense not to say it out loud. When they arrived at the first aid, Lip was sitting on the bed next to Hoob who was laying down. All things considered, Hoob looked pretty good. Someone had got him a stack of pillows to put his foot on and a bag of ice that was lying across it. He looked a little ridiculous with his foot that far up in the air, but if you were going to elevate it properly, it had to be above your heart. Ron was standing at the end of the bed. His face, a picture of how Nix felt, fed up and pissed off. Grant was sitting in the nurses’ chair and Liebgott and Webster were sitting on the floor next to him. Always the picture of unity, this cabin.

“How are you feeling son?” Sink asked.

Nix winced. Whoever told Sink to use a gentler tone when talking to the boys should be hit in the face. Whatever his intent, it always came off condescending and Nix could tell by the look on Hoob’s face that he found it just as unsettling.

“My ankle hurts,” Hoob said and Nix could tell he questioned even saying that much because he looked at Lip for reassurance. Lip smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Well, I’ve called a doctor and he’ll be here to fix you up straight away,” Sink said.

Nix watched as Ron moved so that Sink could no longer see him. There was only so much of this you could be expected to take before you started rolling your eyes.

“I’d like to see the counselors in the hallway for a moment,” Sink said, still playing up the fake cheerfulness.

The four of them moved into the hallway and Nix noticed that Grant had gotten up to take Lip’s place next to Hoob as the door closed.

“I trust that I can count on you boys to manage this situation in the letters home to the parents of the two groups involved. Dick, I think you can handle that.”

“If it’s all the same sir,” Ron interrupted. “I’d like to send the letters home to cabin four’s parents. I met most of them on move-in day and I know Catherine Grant would appreciate receiving a letter from someone she knows.”

Nix had to fight the urge to laugh as the mention of Grant’s mom’s name had the desired effect. Sink’s posture tightened before he spoke. “I think that would be very appropriate. Make sure you let Dick give them a once over before you send them.”

“Of course sir,” Ron said, his face impassive, but Nix knew that he’d just played Sink and won. Nix was pretty sure whatever Ron was cooking, he wanted no part in it.

“You boys seem to have the situation in hand. I’ll be in my office, have the doctor see me for payment,” Sink said as he turned to walk down the hall.

“We are going to need someone to take over Dike’s responsibilities,” Dick said.

“Outside of ATVs, does he have any left?” Ron asked.

“Are you volunteering?” Dick replied. “You have afternoons off.”

“Fuck no,” Ron said, sounding surprised. “You think the boys want to go out for a ride in the woods with me? Where no one can hear them scream?”

Nix had to admit that Ron probably had a point.

“I’ll go with you,” Lip said. “It’s not like I do anything constructive in the afternoons. We’ll share the work and it won’t be that bad.”

Ron seemed ready to object. Nix could see in his eyes the moment he realized there was probably no getting out of this, so better to drag Lip along for the ride.

“Fine,” he sighed. “But I don’t want to have to supervise breakfast anymore. I’m not getting up early, working all morning and losing my afternoons off.”

Dick smiled. He had to give something up and of all the things Ron could have demanded, this was the simplest to accommodate. And Ron probably knew that, so that’s why he asked for it.

“Alright, you and Lip are off breakfast duty,” Dick said, knowing that if Ron got to sleep in, he’d rather do it with Lip. “I’ll break the news to Martin that he has to help me.” 

Nix knew he wasn’t losing anything there, Dick was up before the sun. They never actually woke up together anyway.

“Well, I guess that means I have to go sort out those ATVs,” Ron said. “I’ll bring a list of things we need to replace to dinner. I already know we need at least one tire.”

“Joy,” Dick deadpanned.

Ron and Lip headed off down the hallway. Nix felt a little sorry for Lip. Sure, he was going to spend the rest of the afternoon with his boyfriend. The bad news was that his boyfriend was going to spend the rest of the afternoon under an ATV swearing about Dike’s incompetence. That would probably suck the life out of the experience.

“Let’s go check on Hoob,” Dick said as he opened the door behind them. In their absence, the boys had surrounded the bed. Liebgott was leaning against the metal headboard, Webster had taken up residence at footboard. “Why don’t you boys clear out of here, give the doctor room to work when he gets here.”

Both Webster and Liebgott looked at Grant like he had some kind of power in this situation. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll wait outside and they’ll get Hoob fixed up in no time.”

“Can Grant stay?” Hoob asked, his voice small. “I don’t want to be by myself.”

Nix wanted to protest that what the hell were they, Dick and him hadn’t planned on going anywhere. He understood that wouldn’t mean much to Hoob, he understood the difference. So did Dick because he smiled and said, “Sure.”

Liebgott and Webster paused for a moment as if they thought maybe a concession might be made on their part as well. Nix could tell that Hoob thought he’d pushed it as far as he could push it.

“We’ll be right outside,” Liebgott said. It sounded like a threat when he said it, like he and Webster might kick the door down if something seemed off. Nix didn’t doubt for a second that they would.

“Ok,” Hoob said nodding as they closed the door.

“You know, you’re not doing so bad, Hoob,” Grant said, taking the kid’s hand. “Last time I was in here, I was your age. I got a concussion and they had to put twelve stitches in my head.”

“Really?” Nix could tell that Hoob was impressed and surprised. But Nix knew the reason Grant had started talking was to take Hoob’s mind of his foot.

“Yeah,” Grant said, tracing the scar on right side of his forehead. “Yeah, Floyd and I, he was my best friend at camp. Anyway, we got into a fight with some bigger kids and I got shoved backwards. We got into it on the porch of our cabin and when I feel backwards, I hit my head on the railing. Cracked my head open. God there was a lot of blood. It was running down my face, you can still see the blood stain on the porch.”

“Wow,” Hoob said, still in awe.

“Yeah, I’ll show you when we get back. They sealed the deck so it will probably be there forever. Anyway, the bigger kids freaked and ran off and left us. Floyd got his beach towel for me to hold on my face and he started screaming for help. And Speirs found us and brought us up here. Winters called a doctor, just like they did for you.”

Nix watched as Dick smiled.

“And they wouldn’t let Floyd stay because he was looking a little pale,” Grant said smiling as well. “But Speirs held my hand the whole time while they sewed me up.”

“Did it hurt?” Hoob asked.

“When I did it, it hurt, but they gave me a shot so I didn’t really feel them sew it up,” Grant said. “It hurt later when that started to wear off. They gave me some pretty awesome painkillers so I mostly just wanted to sleep. What really sucked was that Speirs had to wake me up every hour and make sure that I knew where I was, how I got there and stuff. At least today you’ll get to go back and go to bed. You’ll have to keep your foot in the air, but I’ll let you sleep as much as you want.”

“What happened to the bigger kids?” Hoob asked.

“We took care of them,” Dick said.

Hoob nodded as if he considered that an acceptable answer for anyone that hurt his friend. Always a picture of unity, this cabin.

*~*

Webster sat at one of the cafeteria style tables with his head cradled in his palms. He knew Joe was sitting across from him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't in the mood to try and navigate the minefield that was Joe right now. He wasn't really in the mood for much of anything. He'd seen his best friend get into an accident. He'd seen the whole thing. He smelled the burned rubber when the tire popped. Heard Penkala scream 'Oh shit' and watched as he fought to keep control of the cart. He'd watched helplessly as they hit the tree. He'd heard the panic in Hoob's voice when he couldn't get his foot free. 

He'd endured the struggle to get Hoob out, only to be thrown into a tailspin when Grant said their parents would get letters about this. So then after a heartfelt confession, he'd been yelled at by Grant and lectured by Speirs. After being ushered outside by Winters, so he didn't even know what was going on with Hoob anymore, Webster had reached his limit. He had reached his limit with life and he had no energy left to dance around Joe's feelings. So they sat there in silence, for who knows how long and it did not occur to Webster to even care.

"Crutches?" Webster heard Joe ask.

Webster looked up and saw Hoob was coming towards them using crutches, Grant following behind him.

"Yeah," Grant said as they sat down. "Doc wants him to keep weight off it as much as possible. It's just a mild sprain though.”

"How you feeling Hoob?" Joe asked, touching Hoob's shoulder.

"Ok," Hoob said. "Doc gave me some drugs to take after dinner so by then I should be awesome."

Joe laughed. Webster didn’t think he could have have managed that if he tried.

"Look," Grant said. "I'm sorry I yelled at you guys today, but I can't protect you if you keep shit from me. You have to tell me stuff, even if you think it's going to piss me off. I don't want you guys to get sent home and I'll do everything I can to keep that from happening. I can't do anything if you keep me in the dark.”

He paused for a moment as if to let that sink in before continuing. "We're just going to stay up here until dinner so Hoob doesn't have to walk down, just to walk back up. One of you want to pick a board game?"

When Webster didn't even attempt to move, Joe must have gotten the hint since he headed over to grab one off the shelf. He returned and laid Sorry down on the table. Grant laughed.

"Apology accepted if you let me play green," Grant said.

"That seems fair," Joe said. "I really am though, it's been a lot today. Web screaming, Hoob getting hurt, and then worrying about Web getting sent home..."

"Oh fuck you, Joe. Don’t pretend you give a shit. You wouldn’t care if I was hit by a semi except that you would have to find someone else to argue with.”

When he finished speaking, the reaction that Webster got was not the reaction he had expected. He had expected the darkening of eyes and the setting of a familiar leer. He had expected fire to be met with equal fire. He had expected a resistance and the fight that would follow. What he got was Joe’s eyes widening and a sharp intake of breath. And when Joe formed words there was no heat, only dull acceptance.

“Jesus,” Joe shook his head. “Fuck you for thinking that. It wasn’t like that and fuck you for thinking it was.” Joe got up from the table and without looking back, crossed the room and left out the side door.

“Mother of god,” Grant said. He sounded completely spent, like the experience had knocked him on his ass. He leaned forward his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Hoob said sounding completely shocked. “I really…I can’t believe you said that.”

And to be honest, neither could Webster. Now that he heard the words in his head, he couldn’t believe he’d said them out loud. At one point those words might have been true, but if they ever had been, they certainly were no longer. If they had even been true to begin with and now Webster wasn’t certain if they had.

“Go,” Grant said not looking up. “Just go.”

Webster didn’t need to be told twice. He took off across the room as fast as his legs could carry him. He hit the door with enough force that it bounced off the wall of the building before closing. He could see Joe ahead of him and he knew he’d never catch him until he stopped. He chased Joe though most of the camp until they reached the covered dock of the swim area. Webster was out of breath and panting by the time that his feet hit the dock. Joe didn’t turn around, he just stood there staring out at the water.

“I’m sorry,” Webster said, even though he was still catching his breath. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t even know why I said it. Well…I do know why I said it. It’s because like you said, today has been a lot. A lot all at once and I’m so fuckin’ done. Except I took that out on you. All the anxiety...fear and the bullshit. I unloaded all of that on you. It wasn’t fair and I’m sorry I did it. It wasn’t even true, because you stood up to Grant for me. I know you care. And I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it. And I am so fucking sorry. But goddamn it Joe, you have to acknowledge that you don’t make it easy for someone to be your friend. You have a truly alarming way of expressing affection. Fuck, Joe. It’s really hard sometimes to tell if you even like me.”

It was that moment that Joe turned around. He walked over to where Webster was standing and for a second, Webster was worried Joe might take a swing at him. He didn’t though. He simply leaned in, cupped Webster’s face in his hands, and kissed him. Joe continued to defy expectations, Webster would have expected forceful. What he got was the soft press of lips, a gentle reminder he still didn’t have it all figured out.

There are a number of appropriate reactions to being kissed. Kissing back for example. Freezing on the spot however, is not one of them, but honestly, Webster hadn’t seen this one coming. He had considered a number of reactions Joe could have had to his apology. This was one he hadn’t even considered. He wasn’t surprised when Joe pulled back and his walls around his emotions seemed to have grown.

“A truly alarming way of expressing affection,” Webster repeated as he fisted his hands in Joe’s t-shirt and pulled him back in for another kiss. This time Webster moved his lips and he felt Joe’s moving against his. Joe’s fingers came up to tangle in his hair and Webster was surprised to learn he didn’t mind when those fingers pulled. He was also surprised how easy it was to convince Joe, without words, to move backwards so a wall could support them. They sent life jackets tumbling off the wall and almost upended a shelf of swim towels. He was surprised Joe went so easily, the way that their bodies seemed to fit into each other’s. Webster grabbed hold of Joe’s hips, trying to pull him closer even though that wasn’t really a possibility. Joe’s hand, the one not in Webster’s hair, came to rest on Webster’s side under his t-shirt. 

It wasn’t exactly broad daylight, but it was nowhere near dark out. It was not unreasonable to think that someone might catch them. As Joe’s fingers pressed against his skin with just the edge of nails, they were doing this anyway, danger be damned. It was a struggle to get Webster’s shirt off over his head, what with Joe being reluctant to move his hands.

Webster reached down and, gripping the back of Joe’s thighs and using the wall of the dock for support, managed to get Joe’s legs wrapped around his waist. It was tricky, but they managed it even if Joe did bite the inside of his lip in surprise.

“Fuck,” Joe hissed as Webster discarded Joe’s shirt over his shoulder. “Someone’s been working out.”

Webster grinned against the skin of Joe’s neck before setting his attention and teeth onto Joe’s collarbone. Webster felt Joe shift his hips into his stomach, so Webster reached down, working open the fly of Joe’s shorts.

“Shit,” Joe swore, his fingers digging into Webster’s shoulder. He could feel Joe’s fingers leaving half-moons in his shoulder as he worked his hand into Joe’s boxers. The angle was weird, backwards, but the slip, slide, easy rhythm seemed to work. As Webster jerked him off, Joe’s hips rocked down into tented shorts.

“Fuck, Web,” Joe whined, his head falling backwards and thumping against the wall. Webster’s mouth found the juncture of Joe’s neck and shoulder. He knew as he sucked the skin there between his teeth that he was going to leave a mark. He wanted to, wanted a reminder that this was real. He worked his hand faster as Joe’s breath stuttered. Webster watched as Joe’s eyes shut tight, his mouth dropped open, and he coated Webster’s hand and his own chest. Webster slipped his hand out of Joe’s shorts and wiped his hand on a nearby stack of swim towels.

Webster eased Joe back down on to his own feet and Joe attacked Webster’s fly. Webster’s shorts fell around his ankles as Joe gripped his cock.

“Did you like pushing me around?” Joe asked, breath heavy in Webster’s ear. Webster’s hips snapped into Joe’s grip.

“You did, didn’t you?” Joe nipped at Webster’s earlobe.

“You didn’t?” Webster hissed through clenched teeth.

Joe’s thumb swiped across the head of Webster’s cock. What really did it for Webster though, was when he whispered, “Maybe.” Joe squeezed tighter on the upstroke and Webster’s vision blurred as Joe worked him though his orgasm. He leaned into Joe as he recovered, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Fuck, you know how to apologize,” Joe said as he wiped his hand off on a nearby life jacket.

Webster couldn’t help it. He laughed, leaning his forehead against Joe’s.

“You don’t get to do that for anyone else though,” Joe said, suddenly serious.

“I hadn’t planned on doing it with you,” Webster said.

“I’m serious,” Joe’s fingers tightened against Webster’s hip.

“I get that now,” Webster said. “I am too.”


	12. Twelve

Nix sighed as the boys walked in. Paintball was always the favorite event of the summer. The older boys looked forward to it with great excitement. Some brought their own masks, armor, and guns. They treated it like a religion. The new boys subsisted all summer on whispers and rumors of the coming battle. There was just one ugly bit of business before all the fun began, the rules meeting. This was going to be the longest hour of the summer. The boys filed in to folding chairs that were seated in front two tables. The counselors stood at the front of the room. 

“Good afternoon boys,” Dick said, walking into the middle of the room. “As some of you may be aware, we are only a few days away from the annual paintball tournament…” 

A chorus of cheers and wolf whistles went up from the boys, Dick held up his hands for calm.

“Yes, I know you’re all excited. We just have a bit housekeeping first, so bear with us if you have heard these rules before. There are a few differences this year. We will also be designating two new snipers this year and a new medic. Also, Counselor Welsh had an exhausting meeting on Tank rules this week so I’m sure he’s very excited to share the results of that.”

“Oh, it will be gripping, I assure you,” Harry said, rocking the desk chair back that he was sitting in so he could rest his feet on the table.

Dick shook his head. “Anyway, cabin leaders, you need to pick up packets today containing your cabin’s arm bands. We are once again the green team.”

There were more cheers and Dick waited them out. “Tomorrow we will be issuing you rifles and teaching you how to fire and load them. Counselor Compton will also be pulling aside a few of his more promising baseball players to instruct you on the use of grenades. Counselor Speirs will also be providing instruction on bunker tapping.”

Many of the boys turned to Buck with pleading eyes. Ron just grinned murderously. Nix had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Additionally, I be pulling a couple of you aside to designate you as ammunition runners.” Dick said. No one seemed to be as interested in that. “Now, we will be counting a hit as the act of a paintball impacting your body and breaking on impact. If it doesn’t break, it doesn’t count, also overspray does not count. If you are not sure, ask a ref for a ‘paint check’ and they will render a ruling. Don’t call yourself out unless you are sure.”

“I’d be more than willing to provide an example,” Ron said with a smirk.

Dick turned to Ron and shook his head.

“Fine,” Ron said with a sigh.

“To call yourself out,” Dick continued. “You need to yell ‘I’m out’ and then proceed to out of bounds. You are not allowed to shoot anyone while heading out of bounds. If another player surrenders to you, you are also not allowed to shoot them. Players may surrender to avoid being shot.”

“If you take a mercy kill, I will shoot you in the face,” Ron said. 

“He means it, I’ve seen it happen,” Nix heard Malarkey mumbled.

“We call them surrenders now,” Dick corrected.

Ron made a considering noise. “Same difference.”

Dick sighed, “If you are hit, you may not attempt to wipe a hit clean. This is Wiping, it’s cheating and if you are caught, you’ll spend the rest of the afternoon watching us play. When we return to camp, the only activities you’ll participate in are meals. It will also result in three of your teammates losing their lives. I anticipate that they will make your life around here unpleasant as well. Counselor Speirs, would you like to name the snipers and our medic?”

“Sure,” Ron smiled. “Hoobler and Powers. You’ll get your guns tomorrow and we will practice firing from a prone position.”

“Are they awesome?” Hoob asked, not even attempting to conceal his excitement. 

“They have a scope and a bipod,” Ron said, grinning at Hoob.

Hoob’s face looked as if not only had his birthday and Christmas arrived quite suddenly in this moment, but also as if he had been told he would receive everything he wanted. Shifty, on the other hand, was as impassive as ever.

“Additionally, Roe is going to be our medic,” Ron said. “If you die so one of those boys can live, you will be surprised how willing I will be to accept that as a trade.”

“There are a few rules that you will need to be aware of Roe,” Dick said. “First, you will have one minute to reach a teammate to heal them. If Roe does not make it to your teammate in that time, they will have to go to spawn. There will be the possibility of the team earning a respawn, if we capture a team’s flag. Roe, you heal them by wiping the hit off with a bandage. You then need to write the teammate’s ID number on that bandage. You will receive a limited amount of bandages to start. Your teammates will be able to earn you more. You will not be able to wipe head shots. You will also not be able to heal yourself. And before you leave today, you need to pick up your white armband. You’ll have to wear it and your team armband. Also, you won’t be able to carry a gun…”

“That’s bullshit,” Heffron cried. If he meant that only to be heard by those around him, he failed miserably. Buck walked over to where Heffron was sitting and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was that Buck whispered not only seemed to mollify Heffron, but made him look positively murderous.

“Sorry, Counselor Winters,” Heffron said, clearing his throat. 

“That’s fine,” Dick said. “I’m inclined to agree. Counselor Welsh, you have the floor.”

“Well,” Harry said, lowering his feet so he could stand up. “Would Guarnere, Malarkey, and Muck please stand up.”

The three boys popped out of their chairs with no small amount of fanfair.

“These beautiful babies are our tank,” Harry said, smiling broadly. The tank was always a source of pride for Harry since he’d built the thing out of an old camp ATV. He’d found three boys that took the great joy in the responsibility of driving Harry’s baby. Muck even went so far as to take a bow. “Sit down,” Harry said, still smiling. “All right gentlemen, I have, I shit you not, twenty eight different rules this year and lost two hours of my life I’ll never get back. I’ll hit the highlights, but you will need to read them all and sign them. I wish I were joking. We will need to paint a ring on the side of the tank and if that ring is filled, the tank will be destroyed. They have limited your speed to five miles per hour…”

“Fuck,” Guarnere swore.

“I tried, Bill. Know that I did,” Harry said before he continued. “Counselor Martin and I will be drawing straws to determine who will be your ground guide. You will have to have a ground guide touching the tank if you are going to back up.”

“Mother of god,” Guarnere said.

“The rest of you will need to know that you have to be at least twenty feet away from the tank unless you are in a bunker. How you are supposed to judge that distance, don’t ask me because I have yet to receive a good answer to that question. You may ride on the tank, but if the tank goes, you go with it. You cannot block the path of a tank. It is important to remember tanks have the right of way.”

The three boys noticeable preened.

“You will be given a radio for the refs, so no more screaming for them.”

The boys smiled, a radio would make them much deadlier because they could change targets quickly.

“You’ll also be in charge of making your own flag. A design will have to be approved by Counselor Winters and it will need to be mostly green. Bill, if you are driving this year, you will need to pick up your orange arm band. And lastly, no homemade cannons will be allowed.”

“Praise Jesus,” Muck said, grinning.

“All right gentlemen,” Dick said. “It’s now time for lunch and this afternoon we have activities as normal. Tomorrow morning after breakfast, you will report to the archery range and training will begin.”

*~*

That morning the boys had been divided up based on their specialty and experience. The older boys went off for target practice with Nix supervising. Or not supervising as the case most likely was. Dick was very closely supervising their two new snipers. There was some concern that they were too young. Once Shifty laid out a perfectly straight line of paint, attitudes changed. Carwood figured the only problem they were going to have was getting Hoob to give the gun back at the end of the day. If left to his own devices, Hoob would probably sleep with it. As it was, he practically cradled it. 

Roe had taken up running drills while Martin fired in his general direction. It was obvious that Martin wasn’t actually trying. Because it was one thing to have the other team shoot at him, but apparently Martin felt like shooting at Roe was like turning on a small puppy. Roe was clearly annoyed by this. The rest of the boys had gone up the hill for training.

“This is the feeder, you load the paintballs into the feeder and they will drop from there into the gun,” Buck explained, holding the gun up in front of the group of first years gathered around him. Carwood was trying not to think about the last time that he’d gotten this demonstration. Ron pressed against his back, standing in front of the target. Feeling the words against his skin as well as hearing them. 

“My god, it’s a paintball gun, not rocket science,” Ron whispered.

“Shh,” Crawood whispered as he elbowed Ron slightly. They were standing far enough back that Carwood doubted anyone could have heard them, but still. Ron might have a point, but most of the boys looked like Buck was explaining the most fascinating thing in the world. Their eyes tracked his every movement as he pointed out the CO2 tank and the trigger.

“Don’t spoil their moment,” Grant said. “You remember how cool it was the first time they gave you a gun?” Carwood found it admirable that Grant had decided to help train the boys rather than spend the afternoon shooting his fellow campers.

Ron sighed.

“Alright boys, why don’t you line up at the targets,” Buck said. “Oh and I need Bull, Grant, Perco, and Heffron.”

Carwood turned to ask Ron and before he could even get the words out, Ron said, “Grenades.”

“Oh,” Carwood nodded. “Wait, you’re giving Heffron grenades?”

“I figure if he’s going to follow our medic around all day he might as well be armed to the teeth,” Ron shrugged.

Carwood watched as Grant picked up something that looked like a small green water balloon from a box. He twisted something off the top and launched the balloon at the target. Carwood had expected a large burst of paint, like a paintball, but larger. What actually happened was more of a spray of green paint. Perco and Heffron hardly looked disappointed. They almost knocked each other over in their haste to get to the box.

“So jealous,” Liebgott said from where he was suddenly standing next Carwood. “This isn’t working,” he added, holding his gun out to Carwood.

Ron took the gun, realizing Carwood was beyond his depth, attempted to fire it and when nothing happened, Ron turned the gun to the side. “Your CO2 expired. Go grab another gun out of the shed.”

Carwood watched as Liebgott took off running for the shed.

“Not the automatic ones,” Ron yelled.

Carwood almost had to laugh as Liebgott seemed to deflate and walked the rest of the way to the shed.

“If he comes back next year, I’ll give him an auto,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Until then I think we’re are all safer if he has to pump the gun between shots.”

Carwood laughed and shook his head. Down the hill, the tank was doing doughnuts in front of the multipurpose room. 

“That serves no practical purpose, right?” Carwood said to Ron.

“Harry will tell you that it serves the very practical purpose of getting the engine running after sitting all year,” Ron said. “But you could do that driving it in a straight line.”

Ron blew a whistle and the boys rallied around. He divided them up into groups of three. Buck and Ron had set up a bunker which was six boards with a frame supporting them. Above these six boards was a gap and then another two boards.

“This is a bunker,” Ron said. “There will be a lot of these at the range and if you are going to make a run at one of these it is going to take teamwork and there is a reasonable possibility you’ll get yourself killed.”

Carwood watched as all the boys’ attention remained glued on Ron. The danger seemed not to deter them, all seemed willing to make the charge.

“This is not our go-to stagey,” Buck said. “It’s something we turn to if we are desperate, not just because you want to look cool.”

“Hopefully we won’t get into a no-win situation this year,” Ron continued. “But even if we don’t, it’s still a good skill to know. When this gets really fun is when you have a couple of first years hiding in a bunker.”

Carwood could just imagine Ron taking a run at a bunker full of frightened fifteen year olds and enjoying it way more than he should.

The look on Buck’s face seemed to suggest that he was seeing the same image. “It would be nice if you let a counselor know before you do something crazy.”

Carwood could tell by Ron’s posture that he was indifferent to whether the boys actually did this. “You will need your teammates to distract the targets with suppressive fire. You want to make sure that they don’t even think about leaving this bunker. You have to move as fast as you can and as quiet as you can. When you reach the bunker…”

“It’s important to remember, the rules say it only takes one hit to remove someone from the game,” Buck interrupted.

Carwood could tell by the sour look on Ron’s face that that was not what he had been planning to say. Carwood got the feeling that he was thinking more along lines of blanket the whole bunker in green paint. Also noticeable was that Liebgott and Heffron were not pleased with this plan. They’d probably end up seeking out Ron later. 

A cheer resounded from the bottom of the hill. Carwood turned to watch Malarkey raise a green flag above the tank, in center of which was a white spade.

*~*

When Babe came walking down from cabin one, Roe was already sitting on the stairs with his shoes on. It wasn’t that Babe was late, it was just that Roe had decided that it wasn’t really worth it to pretend he was going to bed. He knew he should probably be asleep, he was sure he’d run more today than he ever had before. They’d have to be up early in the morning and the whole camp was counting on him. But Roe knew that he wouldn’t sleep at all without seeing Babe. Muck had just sighed, “Ahh young love,” as he closed the door, leaving Roe on the porch.

“Sorry that took so long, Bill was giving me all kinds of shit for sneaking out with my boyfriend on the night before the tournament,” Babe said, rolling his eyes. “Apparently I should be getting a good night’s sleep and take this seriously.”

Roe smiled, mostly because Bill thought he was Babe’s boyfriend. “How’d you convince him to let you out past curfew?”

“Luz threw a pillow at him and told him fuck off, he was trying to sleep,” Babe said.

Roe smiled and followed Babe down the familiar path to the dock. He was starting to feel very possessive over this space of the camp. It felt more like his then his own cabin did. It felt like theirs, like it belonged to him and Babe. 

“Look, Welsh’s boat is gone. Bill’s so full of shit,” Babe said.

“Sleep is for the weak.” Roe worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Damn right it is,” Babe said, pulling Roe in with a hand placed on the back of his neck for a kiss. Roe’s back soon met the wall of the dock as Babe pushed him backwards. Roe’s hands dipped under Babe’s shirt, searching out warm skin to press his fingers into.

“Here,” Babe said pulling back. Roe watched as Babe removed his t-shirt and tossed it on the wooden dock behind him. Roe tried not to blush and he really hoped he succeeded. When Babe started kissing him again, Roe couldn’t stop moving his fingers. He gripped Babe’s shoulders. He traced the lines of Babe’s rib cage. His fingers danced down Babe’s spine.

Babe’s fingers went for the hem of Roe’s t-shirt. He started to lift the garment, but he pulled away. “I want to take this off, but then the wall would probably hurt your back.”  
Roe would have been willing to risk it, but Babe continued, “We could get in the water.”

“In our pajamas?” Roe questioned, his teeth returning to drag over his bottom lip.

“I’m pretty sure I want you to take those off too.” Roe was surprised that Babe actually looked nervous. Roe knew that he would be nervous, he could feel his cheeks heating up to prove the point. It was reassuring in a way, to find out that Babe was nervous too.

“We don’t have to,” Babe said, probably taking Roe’s silence as rejection.

“I want to, it’s just no one has ever shown any interest in seeing me naked,” Roe said. He would have given anything to be able to stop blushing.

“I’m very interested,” Babe replied, grinning.

Roe took a deep breath and pulled his shirt off over his head. He knew he wasn’t much to look at. He was scrawny, pale, and he knew it. For the first time though, he didn’t feel it. It was hard to feel inadequate with Babe looking at him. Looking at him and pulling him closer and kissing him hard. 

“Come on.” Babe took his wrists and pulled him forward a little bit. With a new sense of confidence, Roe followed Babe to the end of the dock. His fingers trembled as he shucked his pajamas and got into the water after Babe.

When he got into the water, he sucked air through his teeth. “Shit, it’s cold.”

“Come here, I’ll warm you up.” The dock lights cast enough orange light onto the water for Roe to see Babe wiggle his eyebrows.

“Wow,” Roe said laughing.

Babe smiled and waded over to him. Roe reached over his shoulder and gripped the edge of the dock behind him. One of Babe’s hands wrapped around Roe’s waist and the other came up to cup Roe’s face, thumb stroking his cheek bone. “You don’t have to be nervous, it’s just me.”

Roe used his free hand to pull Babe forward. Their lips crashed together and Roe even felt the hint of Babe’s teeth on his bottom lip. Babe shifted a bit to bring his arm up around Roe’s back, fingers curling over the front of Roe’s shoulder. When Babe’s other hand left his face, Roe was pretty sure he knew where this was going. That didn’t stop him from jumping when he felt Babe’s legs moved against his and their groins came into contact. Babe took both their cocks in hand, setting a steady rhythm.

“Babe,” Roe half moaned, half whined into the night.

“Right here,” Babe whispered, his nose rubbing against Roe’s. Roe grabbed a hold of Babe’s bicep tight enough that he was pretty sure there would be bruises in the morning. The water increased the slip slide ease of Babe’s rhythm.

“Babe,” Roe gasped against Babe’s cheek.

“Like when you say…oh shit, Gene,” Babe moaned, his head slumping against Roe’s shoulder. Roe felt Babe’s lips and tongue on his neck and Roe’s hips snapped forward as he felt Babe’s teeth drag against his shoulder. When Babe’s hand tightened around him, Roe felt Babe bite the skin between his shoulder and neck. As he felt the edge of pain, his vision blurred and he toppled over the edge.

“Shit,” Babe said as he nosed the place where his mouth had been. “Pretty sure that’s going to leave a mark.”

“It’s ok,” Roe said, leaning his head on Babe’s. “I was pretty hard on your arms.”

“You think so?” Babe asked, sounding almost hopeful.

Roe tilted his head and kissed Babe. It was different this time. It wasn’t the two of them racing for something, they never seemed to know what. It wasn’t the frantic, crushing, and crashing of lips and teeth. This time it was the simple slide of swollen lips, a shared softness that felt like it could go on forever.

“Feeling warmer?” Babe asked, nuzzling his nose against Roe’s again.

“Yeah.” Roe knew where this was going, but he figured Babe had a right to be smug if he wanted to be.

“See, told you I could warm you up,” Babe said grinning.

Roe pulled Babe back in for another kiss because he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do.

*~*

Webster rolled over, fluffing his pillow as he did so. He couldn't sleep and it had nothing to do with excitement of the events of tomorrow. Or later today since the clock above their doorway said it was after one. Unlike Hoob and Joe, Webster wasn't really looking forward to something that simulated war. Nor was he particularly keen on getting shot at. As he focused on the bed next to him, he realized there wasn't anyone in it. Joe's covers were tossed back, but his shoes were still sitting on top of his footlocker. Deciding that he definitely wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now, Webster slipped out of bed and padded across the room. He figured if Joe hadn't taken his shoes, finding him probably wouldn't require Webster to wear his.

He was just on the other side of the door when he heard a voice say, "Where are you sneaking off to in the middle of the night, princess?"

Webster jumped and turned to kick Joe in the calf. Not hard, but he deserved it. Joe was sitting in his pajamas, knees drawn up to his chin and back against the door frame on his side of the porch.

"I was looking for you, you ass," Webster said as he stepped over Joe's legs so he could sit beside him without blocking the door. Webster figured he might have some small right to Joe's personal space. Neither of them had said anything about what had happened two days ago. Webster wanted to, but he knew that made him sound like a girl. Webster figured if he wasn't allowed to do it with anyone else, that meant he could sit next to Joe. Webster sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him and rolled his shoulders, getting used to the unyielding wood at his back.

"Couldn't sleep," Joe said, not that Webster had asked, but he must have thought this needed explaining.

"You're not worried about tomorrow are you?" Webster asked, a little stumped as to why Joe would have trouble sleeping. "You will be fine. Speirs probably would have made you a sniper if Shifty hadn't turned out be a savant." He wasn't just saying that for Joe's sake. He believed it. Speirs seemed to like Joe, in that weird way of his. Probably because Joe reminded him of Grant in the ways that seemed to matter. "I'm the one who can't run and shoot with anything that resembles accuracy."

Webster was surprised when he got nothing for that comment. Normally self-deprecation made Joe at least smile. As it was, Joe's face remind closed off, his arms still tightly drawn around his legs.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or are you going to make me beat it out of you? Because something is clearly wrong or you wouldn't be outside in the middle of the night," Webster said.

Joe seemed to be weighing something, probably whether or not he get away with lying. "You live in New York City."

Webster was about to ask what that had to do with anything before realizing that was everything. It was the reason it had taken Joe until practically the end of the summer to make any kind of move. It was why he hadn't said anything about it since. It was why they hadn't done it again. It was why Joe couldn't sleep. Webster lived in New York City. Joe lived in San Francisco. Everything that came after was affected by those basic truths. Webster found that this understanding didn't really change his answer.

"So?" he said.

"So," Joe repeated, looking at Webster like he lost his mind. "You do remember where I live, don't you? You know, on the other side of the country, in a completely different time zone?"

"You're three hours behind, Joe. Don't make it sound like you've crossed the International Date Line," Webster said. "Besides, I'd have to wait for my parents to go to bed to call you anyway. Otherwise we'd be interrupted thirteen times by my mother saying 'David that doesn't sound like homework.' Well, on the nights she decides to parent, we would be."

"She actually says that?" Joe asked.

"It's one of her favorites," Webster said. "Course, homework doesn't even sound like homework to her. I think she just likes to hear herself say it, like it sounds like something a parent would say."

“Yeah, if you’re watching a bad after school special,” Joe said.

“We’ll figure it out,” Webster said. “We will test the limits of my parent’s long distance plan. We’ll text, we’ll email, and we’ll figure it out.”

“You’re just going to sit at home on a Friday night and wait for me to call?” The way Joe said it made it sound like he’d already figured out the answer.

“It’s not like I had this overwhelming social life before. I go to school, the library, the bookstore, and the aquarium. That’s my life, books and sharks. Most of it is closed by seven. Then it’s homework, debate prep, and avoiding my parents. See, I’m a bigger nerd than you thought.”

Webster watched as a small smile began to form on Joe’s face.

“The part I’m worried about is how I get down here next summer,” Webster said. Now that his secret was out, he doubted that he’d be able to forge his way down here again.

“Grant’s got some ideas,” Joe said, looking off into the night.

“You’ve been plotting behind my back?” Webster said, not really surprised that Joe hadn’t told him. Joe had probably been trying to talk himself out of this for the last two days by confronting all the available roadblocks.

Joe shrugged.

“You know, every once in a while it might be a good idea to have these conversations outside of your own head. Or you know, fuck here’s a thought, with me. Though I have no real practical experience to work with here. It stands to reason that if a problem involves two people, it might be good idea for those two people to talk about it. What do you say we try that next time just for the hell of it?”

Joe turned to look at Webster. Webster wasn’t sure he what kind of response he was expecting from Joe. Admittance of wrong doing, absolutely not, but failing that he wasn’t sure. What he hadn’t expected was for Joe to move and end up straddling his lap. You know what with cabin three being right there, and Grant and Hoob being on the other side of the wall.

“You think I should be telling you my problems?” There was a hard edge to the question that implied a limited range of acceptable responses.

“Yeah,” Webster said, looking into Joe’s dark eyes. “Yeah, I think you should. At a minimum, I should hear about ones that involve me.”

Joe grabbed the back of Webster’s head and pulled him into a kiss. This time Webster kissed back right away. He moved his lips under Joe’s as Joe set about mapping Webster’s mouth with his tongue. Webster’s hands found their way to Joe’s back, under his t-shirt, fingers pressed against the line of his spine. Joe was left to accomplish the task of getting their shorts down without them actually getting up. It took maneuvering, but he managed it.

“Shit,” Joe hissed when their skin touched.

Webster turned his attention to the tendons of Joe’s neck. He sucked the skin there, catching it with the edge of his teeth.

“Fuck, you had to be a biter,” Joe whispered, his fingers tangling in Webster’s hair.

Webster hadn’t been one for dirty talk in theory, it always seemed forced. With Joe though, it was like the filter between his brain and his mouth had just closed up shop.

They moved together, rolling hips and sliding palms. Webster’s lips on Joe’s skin, Joe’s fingers pulling Webster’s hair. Webster felt Joe’s orgasm as he heard Joe hiss, “Web,” into his ear.

“You think we could do this after your parents went to sleep?” Joe asked, his pace increasing and he slid his thumb over the head of Webster’s cock. “Think I could call you with my hand in my pants and tell you what I’m doing?”

“Fuck,” Webster hissed, because he could see it and that was what set him over the edge.

He sat there for a moment, head tucked in the crook of Joe’s neck. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure we can figure it out.”

He felt the breath of Joe’s laughter against his ear.


	13. Thirteen

Roe pressed his back against the plywood of the bunker. Muck and Malarkey followed after him coming to a stop, one on each side. He flinched as something sharp poked his finger. He paused to look at the pointer finger on his left hand. As he dragged his thumb across his index finger, it began to bleed. He wiped his thumb across the finger again and no new blood rose to the surface.

“Listen,” Muck whispered. “Don’t follow us.”

“Unless one of us gets shot then by all means, follow us,” Malarkey hissed, trying to see around the bunker without giving himself away.

“Well right,” Muck said. “But if we don’t get shot, don’t follow us because we are running for the tank so they will try and shoot us. So wait for us to get away and then go find Babe. You need to find and stay with someone that has a gun.”

“Where’s Penkala?” Roe asked, hunching down so his head wouldn’t be seen over the bunker.

“Christ knows,” Malarkey said as he checked over his gun.

Then the cannon sounded. The cannon that Winters had told them to listen for, before he sent them out to find a place to hide. He’d told them when they heard that cannon that meant the game had started. “Find some cover, get yourselves situated, and wait for the cannon.” That’s what he’d told them and that was the cannon. The seconded it sounded, the air was filled with the whistling sound of paintball fire.

“Remember kid,” Muck said. “Take of yourself, you're no good to us dead.” He clapped him on the shoulder and took off running, Malarkey following behind him.

Roe crouched behind the bunker and sucked in a shaky breath of air. He fidgeted with the strap of the bag Counselor Speirs had given him that morning. It was a forest green, same color as the flag above the tank. Counselor Speirs had been pissed the refs had made Roe pin a white circle with a red cross on it. He’d muttered to Counselor Lipton, “Why don’t they just paint it on his fuckin’ forehead. Better yet, why not call it what it is, a goddamn bullseye.” Roe just folded the bag a little and it couldn’t be seen. The bag was loaded with bandages, he’d clipped the sharpie onto the strap. He’d memorized everyone’s numbers so he didn’t have to look before he wrote them down. Babe had quizzed him on the bus. 

He closed his eyes and whispered aloud the prayer his grandmother had taught him when he was younger. “Lord grant that I shall never seek so much to be consoled as to console. To be understood as to understand. Or to be loved as to love with all my heart. With all my heart.”

That’s when he heard it, the blood curdling scream, “Medic!”

Roe took off running toward the next bunker, hoping he was going in the right direction. As he approached it, he yelled, “You guys hit?”

As he slid behind the bunker, he tripped and fell on his ass, knocking his helmet from his head.

“Easy, Roe,” Popeye said. “How you doing?”

“Hey, are you crazy?” Babe said as Roe retrieved his helmet. Babe then gestured to Popeye, “What are you looking at him for? Watch the goddamn line!”

“You hit?” Roe repeated.

“What? No,” Babe replied.

“Medic!”

“Go.” Babe patted his leg as Roe took off running towards the screaming. As he listened, he knew that voice, it was Penkala. Hearing his roommate’s voice made him run faster. At no point did he think he’s not really hurt, it’s just paint. All he could think was I have to get to Penkala. He slid into the bunk next to Penkala.

“Fucking ball went right up my sleeve! Right up my goddamn sleeve,” Penkala said, there was splatters of yellow paint on Penkala’s face. “I have paint up my sleeve all the goddamn way to my armpit.”

“Then give me your arm,” Roe demanded. Penkala stretched out his arm and Roe pulled one of his bandages from inside his bag and wiped the bulk of the yellow paint from Penkala’s wrist. He wrote Penkala’s number on the bandage before tying it around Penkala’s arm. “You’re good.”

“Thanks, kid,” Penkala said, clapping him on the helmet.

Ron nodded and took off running for the next bunker. He slid in beside Luz who was pumping air into his gun while Toye fired through the slot bunker. “Asshole couldn’t find a snowball in a blizzard. Ahh Roe, if it isn’t my favorite medic.”

“I’m you’re only medic, Luz,” Roe said, looking up to watch Toye fire.

“Any time you want to chip in, Luz,” Toye said. “Ahh, goddamn it.”

Toye turned and crouched behind the bunker, clutching his shoulder as blue paint slipped between his fingers. Roe turned, wiped the paint away and scribbled Toye’s number on the bandage. He tied it next to Toye’s team armband. He didn’t wait for any reply as he took off running for the next bunker.

He reached the next bunker that was larger than the others. Counselor Martin was sitting there surrounded by cabin two, explaining the strategy. “I have to stay with the Tank, so you boys follow Bull and it’s all going to be ok.” Roe watched as the boys nodded. Counselor Martin turned to him. “Roe, this is a dangerous patrol. Why don’t you just stay back here and keep your ass out of trouble?”

“Yes, sir,” Roe said, leaning his back against the bunker.

“Yeah.” Counselor Martin patted his arm before following the rest of cabin two. Roe listened as the boys ran. At first he heard nothing, the range seemed silent for a moment and then he heard the whistles of paintballs firing. He didn’t hear anyone scream, so he sat there crouched against the bunker, staring straight ahead, listening for someone to scream.

“They shot me.” He heard someone yell. Followed by “Medic!” Roe charged around the bunker keeping his head down as he ran until he reached a pile of tires where he found Counselor Nixon and Randleman crouched around Perconte who had a bright yellow burst of paint on his ass. Roe slid in beside him and he was just pulling a bandage out when he heard someone yelling.

“You can’t heal that player, he was moved prior to the arrival of the medic.” Roe looked up to see a referee standing behind them.

“That’s bullshit, we just rolled him over,” Counselor Nixon yelled. “That is bullshit! I have never heard that rule before.”

“There’s nothing you can do, boy,” Randleman said, shaking his head. “Perco is gonna have to go to spawn.”

Roe angrily stuffed the bandage back into his bag and took off running back the way he came. He could still hear Counselor Nixon yelling about ‘bullshit’ and ‘making up rules as they fuckin’ went’. As he ran, he heard someone scream for a medic. He ran back into the line his camp was holding until he reached the bunker with Luz and Toye. Luz was now firing through the slot and Toye was leaned back against the bunker his right leg stretched out in front of him, blue paint on the toe of his boot.

“Long time no see,” Toye said, waving his hand at his boot.

“Maybe you should just follow him around, Roe,” Luz said as he fired down the range.

“Shut the fuck up, Luz,” Toye said, hitting Luz in the leg while Roe tied the bandage around his arm.

“You see Babe?” Roe said, patting the bandage.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m sure you’re boyfriend’s fine,” Toye said with a grin as he pumped air for his gun.

Luz cheered as the tank rolled by. Guarnere was firing from the turret gun. On the gun was painted the name ‘Kitty’ and underneath it ‘Frannie’. Roe watched as the tank sprayed the blue team with green paint.

Roe took off running to the bunker where he had last seen Babe. As he slid in the bunker, his shoulder collided with Babe’s. “Got you.”

Babe smiled as he fired through the slot.

“Medic!”

“That sounded like Winters,” Babe said, pausing his firing.

Roe froze for a moment at the sound of Counselor’s Winters’ voice.

“Come on, you go. I’ll be right behind you,” Babe said.

Babe’s elbow in his rib got him moving again, tearing off in the direction of their commander’s screams. He weaved through bunkers until he saw them. Counselor’s Winters was firing through the slot in the bunker while Counselor Welsh lay on the ground clutching his leg.

“Hit right on the fuckin’ bone. Son a bitch, that hurt,” Counselor Welsh said.

Roe rolled in besides him, Babe colliding with his back. Wipe, write, tie, already Roe was starting to develop a rhythm.

“Ron was right, you are wicked fast,” Counselor Welsh said as he sat up.

Roe nodded, not sure what to say in the face of a compliment. He turned and nodded to Babe and the pair took off running back to their bunker. As they slid in, he heard Babe yell.

“My hand! My goddamn hand.”

Roe turned and the palm of Babe’s hand was filled with blue paint. Roe pulled a bandage from his bag with shaky fingers and wiped every trace of blue from Babe’s hand. He wrote the first number he’d memorized, and the one he hoped he’d never use, on the bandage before he tied it around Babe’s arm.

“Still fucking stings,” Babe said, flexing his fingers.

Without thinking about it, he fell back on the method his mother used after she applied a bandage. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Babe’s palm.

“Did you just kiss my hand?” Babe asked, smiling in that way that made Roe want to kiss him.

“Heffron, watch the goddamn line.”

The sound of Babe’s laughter was best sound Roe had head all day.

*~*

Whoever suggested that you won’t know you like something until you tried it, deserves to be shot in the face with a paintball gun. And Webster now had some reference point for how that would feel.

“Shit,” he swore, placing his hand on the inside of his thigh. “Medic.”

Joe turned when he heard Webster scream. “Well, it could have been worse.” Webster could tell that Joe was about to start laughing.

Webster glared, “I hate you so much right now.”

At that point, Roe appeared and saved Webster from Joe’s response. And after Roe had cleaned off his leg, Webster held out his arm so he could tie the bandage around his arm. “Thanks,” he said and Roe only nodded before running off.

That morning had been a cluster fuck. Hoob, despite his protest that he was fine, should not even be here. Let alone running around. Well in Webster’s option anyway, not that he had said anything. Even if he thought it was a bad idea, Webster wasn’t going to be the one to spoil Hoob’s fun. At least Grant had put his foot down on the running. Hoob had found a couple of overturned logs and hid behind those. As they’d walked away to find their own bunker, Grant had clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine and you worry too much.” Webster didn’t think it was possible to worry too much. They were in a combat simulation and everyone kept using war terminology to describe this thing. They’d made Hoob a sniper, made him a target, and he couldn’t even run away. It was impossible not to worry too much at this point.

Webster couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder every once in a while to see if Hoob seemed ok, even if he couldn’t see Hoob from here. As long as he couldn’t see a lot of paint on the logs, it meant they hadn’t figured out where the shots were coming from.   
“Shit,” Grant yelled. “Duck!”

Webster put his hands over his head and leaned down into the bunker. There was a thud against the wood and Webster saw yellow paint splatter around the wall.  
“See how they like ‘em.” Grant yanked the pin out of a grenade and launched it over the bunker.

There was a casual indifference that Grant had to everything going to hell around him that Webster was envious of. Webster met adversity or resistance and he tended to dissolve into a panic. Grant just threw a grenade. Joe also seemed to thrive in the crazy and again, Webster was slightly resentful.

When he noticed a grenade heading their way again, he was about to suggest that maybe they find somewhere else when he realized where they were really aiming. They had shorted it the first time. What they were aiming for was Hoob. Their aim had improved only slightly since the grenade landed in the grass well below Hoob.

“Shit,” Grant said, clearly noticing their intended target.

“Hoob,” Joe said. “What are we going to do?”

Grant’s eyes darted around the course, Webster could practically hear the gears grinding. “Alright,” he said pulling the bag of grenades off his shoulder. He removed two from the bag and stuffed one in each of his pockets. “I know I’m going to regret this but you take these,” he said, before handing the bag to Joe.

Joe’s eyes winded and he blinked a couple of times as if he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Take them and cause as much hell as you can,” Grant continued. And now Webster understood why Joe had been selected for this. Hell was Joe’s specialty. “Run that way,” Grant pointed off to his left. “Web and I are going to go get Hoob and we’ll meet you at those tires.”

The smile that spread of over Joe’s face was not one of the cat that got the canary. It was more along the lines of the cat that had gotten locked in the aviary on a long weekend. Webster almost felt sorry for the yellow team.

“You and I are going to run up the hill over there and come back down at Hoob. I want to be able slide down the hill at Hoob,” Grant said, gesturing as he went. “The problem is going to be carrying him. I’ll do it Web, but you’ll have to cover me.”

“I can do it,” Webster said, nodding. He had no idea if he actually could, but it couldn’t hurt to say it out loud.

“I know you can,” Grant said and hearing that helped even more. “Give ‘em hell,” Grant said to Joe before he took off running up the hill. Webster followed without having to be told. As they weaved their way back through the course, they didn’t seem to take a lot of fire. The other team probably thought they were cowards and a waste of paint. Running back down the hill was different though, Webster could hear the balls whistling by them as they ran. He and Grant crashed, sliding into Hoob’s hole with absolutely no grace.

“Damn, am I glad to see you guys,” Hoob said. His face was peppered with overspray from the artillery hitting the logs in front of him.

Grant smiled. “Hoob, you’re going to hold onto my shoulders and wrap your legs around my waist.”

Webster pumped the air into his gun with shaky hands.

“You’re going to be fine,” Grant said.

Once Hoob was situated, his own gun slung over his back, they took off running with Grant out in front and Webster holding behind him, firing at anything yellow. They were almost to the next bunker when Webster saw the grenade hurdling for them.

“Grenade,” he yelled. He watched as Grant dove to avoid it. In a crash of limbs, he and Hoob landed behind the bunker. Hoob was wincing in pain. Webster dove in behind them. He picked up Grant’s helmet and that’s when he saw bright burst of yellow paint.  
“Fuck,” Hoob said.

“It’s ok,” Grant said, taking the helmet. “I have to go to spawn.” Webster watched as Grant got up, he also retrieved Webster’s gun off the ground, leaving his own auto on the ground.

A ref came over screaming that Grant was out. “I know,” he said. But before he walked away, he gave the discarded auto a meaningful look. The ref followed Grant probably thinking he’d wipe or something.

“What do we do now?” Hoob asked.

“We finish this. We get to the tires and we get this to Joe,” Webster said, picking up the auto.

“Then what?”

“What do you say, one suicide mission at a time?” Webster said.

Hoob nodded. It took a little maneuvering to load Hoob onto his back and he was heavier then he looked. The going got easier once Joe’s saw them coming, repressing fire was one of Joe’s specialties.

“Where’s Grant?” he said as they slid in beside him.

“Headshot,” Hoob said.

Joe turned his attention away from the range and he looked genuinely stricken.

“He left this,” Webster said, holding out the auto. “I’m sure it was meant for you.”

Joe leaned his own rifle against the tires and took the auto almost reverently from Webster’s hands.

“So what’s the plan for getting a spawn?” Hoob said. “Because you have to capture another team’s flag and I don’t know anyone that crazy.”

Webster looked at Joe and Webster could see the moment the same name came to Joe.

“Speirs,” Joe said and Webster nodded.

If you wanted to run through hell, it helped to have someone that knew the way.

*~*

“Goddamn it,” Buck yelled and Carwood turned so see what he was screaming about.

The tank. The tank had been hit, blue paint running down its side.

“We have to give them cover or they’ll get torn apart trying to get out of that thing,” Buck said. They pair of them took off running in the direction of the tank. Carwood had been surprised how much easier this whole nightmare was once you got used to it. Buck seemed to move from crisis to crisis and Carwood figured that sounded like something he could handle, so he’d followed along. Ron and Harry had taken off somewhere and whatever they had cooking seemed way more involved.

“Come on,” Buck yelled to the tank. “We’ll cover you.” He lobbed a grenade over into the yellow team’s bunker. Carwood couldn’t help being impressed, UCLA sure got their money’s worth. Guarnere forced the tank door open. On his way out of the tank, a blue paintball clipped him in the leg.

“Shit,” he cried as he fell into the trench arms pin wheeling at his sides. 

“Medic!” Buck screamed as Carwood tossed a grenade in the direction that the shots had come from.

“Come on, Malark. Go,” Muck screamed. “I do not want to die in this tank.”

Malarkey leaped out of the tank next to Guarnere as Roe arrived to wipe Bill’s wound.

“Counselor Lipton,” Roe yelled. “This is my last bandage.” He waved the cloth before he tied it around Bill’s arm.

“Fuck,” Buck swore. “We need a fucking spawn.”

“Well, if you want to run across the field and knock on the blue team’s door and ask for their flag, be my guest,” Guarnere yelled.

“Bill, catch.” Carwood watched as Muck tossed Bill the tank’s grenade launcher followed by a bag of ammo. Muck jumped out of the tank and when his head pitched forward, Carwood saw blue paint covering the back of his helmet.

“Muck,” Malarkey screamed.

Muck shook his head and started running for the out of bounds.

“We have to get a spawn,” Buck said, shaking his head. “We’ve got no tank and our medic has no bandages.”

Roe looked so sullen when he heard Buck say that.

“Hey kid,” Guarnere said, taking Roe around the shoulder. “He’s pissed at the bullshit, you’ve done real good. Made us all proud.”

Roe nodded, but Carwood could tell he was still disappointed.

“Why the fuck is no one answering the tank radio,” Luz screamed as he came running down the hill, his radio strapped around his back. “I got Winters screaming in my ear for a tank.”

Carwood was about to say something when green paintballs started raining down on the other side of the road.

“What on earth?” he said. Turning, he saw Ron running towards them with Webster and Liebgott following behind. Somewhere along the way, Liebgott had gotten his hands on an auto and a bag of grenades. Carwood wasn’t sure he wanted to know how that happened.

“Lip, what’s up?” Ron yelled as he slid into the ditch with them.

“We lost the tank, Muck got hit coming out, Roe’s out of bandages, and it’s started raining green paint,” Carwood yelled.

“Babe and Hoob are in the machine nest,” Liebgott yelled as he fired across the road. He had green paint on his fingers and there was a swipe of it across his cheek.

“We have a machine gun?” Carwood asked.

“Stole it from yellow,” Ron said. “What’s the plan to get a spawn?”

“Well, what’s your favorite color?” Buck yelled. “Blue or yellow?”

Ron surveyed the terrain. “Webster, take Roe up the hill. Heffron will cover you once he sees you coming. You have to get Roe as far back as you can. Once we trip the spawn, one of the guys will have his new bandages.”

The boys nodded and took off running up the hill.

Ron turned to Buck. “Go tell Bull we’re going blue.”

“Try not to get killed,” Buck said as he took off running towards where he and Lip had last seen the boys of two.

“How are we going to capture their flag?” Carwood asked.

“I’m going to go get it and you’re going to wait here,” Ron said, pulling his grenade bag off his shoulder. “Lieb, these better still be separate when I get back.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” Joe said as he leaned down into the ditch to load his gun. Carwood had seen him side eyeing the mesh bags before.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Keep an eye on him,” Ron said, patting the inside of Carwood’s thigh.

Ron pushed himself out of the ditch and took off running across the road.

“What the hell,” Luz said as he stopped trying to radio back to Winters.

At first the blue team didn’t shoot at him. They probably couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Eventually the blue tank turned and tried, but Ron stopped and leaned back to avoid the shot before he continued running.

“Tank!” Guarnere yelled as Malarkey handed him the grenade launcher.

Carwood watched Ron slide in and pluck the blue team’s flag from its stake before he turned around and started running back. He slid back into the ditch and held out the flag in Carwood’s direction.

“What do we have to do with it?” Carwood asked, taking the blue fabric.

“Nothing,” Ron said. “But we just sent the blue team home.”

Carwood shook his head at Ron’s causal nature about everything. He turned his head when he heard screaming. Muck, Grant, and Penkala were running down the hill toward them.

“Get to the tank,” Ron yelled and Guarnere and Malarkey jumped up and started running toward their tank.

Grant moved in next to Liebgott. “I’ll have my gun back now.”

Liebgott sighed and handed it over. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“The grenades too,” Grant said.

“You suck the joy out of life,” Liebgott replied as he handed over the mesh bag.

“I want an ammo check,” Ron yelled. “It’s time to move on yellow.” 

*~*

“He’s what?” Nix yelled over the noise of the battle field. Because he was sure he couldn’t have heard Harry. There was no way Harry had said that Ron just took off all by himself to get the blue teams flag. Because that would be crazy, even by Ron’s standards.

“Going for a spawn,” Harry repeated. He looked pleased with this turn of events, but Harry and Ron have always had a different outlook on what could be considered reasonable.

“By himself?” Because honestly, Nix couldn’t process this.

“That’s what Luz said.” Harry twisted the radio in Nix’s direction.

“And he didn’t think that might be information we’d want to know,” Nix screamed. “You know, before he took off running?”

“He’s not wrong,” Dick yelled as he fired over the range. “We could use a spawn.”

“You don’t, maybe, want to know about the crazy before he does it?” Nix said, resuming his firing.

“I want the spawn,” Dick yelled. “I’m not going to ask how he does it. You didn’t seem to mind the crazy when he took that machine gun for you.”

Nix was not going to get in a fight with his boyfriend over command structure in the middle of paintball field. Just because he didn’t though, did not mean Dick was right or that Ron wasn’t crazy. Just because he’d pointed out that it was poorly defended, didn’t mean that Ron had go down there, guns blazing with a couple of kids from four.

The cannon sounded, stating that even though Ron was crazy, he’d also been successful. Nix looked back over his shoulder to see their boys running downhill to rejoin their teammates.  
“Ok, how are we going to take down yellow?” Nix gave Dick a sidewise glance. 

The plan hatched involved surrounding yellow and slowly pushing them back towards the corner of their zone. Cabin two, under Martin’s leadership, was going to move in on the right, covered by the tank. Ron would take cabin four up the left and Heffron would cover them with the stolen machine gun. The rest of the boys and the counselors would move through the center.

As they worked their way down bunker to bunker, Nix couldn’t help but feel like they might win this. This time last year, he was hunkered behind a bunker while yellow bore down on them, pushing them into a smaller and smaller corner. It felt good to turn around on them and shove green paint down their throats. Last year it was Sobel cowering behind a stack of tries, confused to the point of uselessness. This year, Nix watched Dick actually lead and exacted a strategy. It was refreshing.

The best part was watching Dick pull the yellow flag out of the ground. He picked it up, twisting the stake in his hand, cradling the yellow fabric in his hand.

“Feel good?” Nix said, walking up to Dick, the butt of his gun resting on his shoulder.

“Better than last year,” Dick said with a smile.

“Wow, maybe you want to raise the bar a little bit so you have to do more than step over it,” Nix said.

“Holy fuck, Dick,” Harry said, running over to them. “Kitty is never going to believe this when I tell her.” He coughed, “I mean, when I write her.” Harry’s face then burst into a smile.

Dick smiled and rolled his eyes.

“So what are we going to do with this?” Nix said, nodding his head toward the flag in Dick’s hand.

“Should’ve known the year we win is the year they are too cheap for a trophy,” Harry said.

“You know, I hate to rain on the victory moment,” Ron said, walking over. “But the sooner we get the kids on the bus, the sooner we can start getting drunk.”

“He makes a very good point,” Nix said, smiling. 

“Gather around over here,” Martin yelled. “Green team line up! Counselor Winters.”

The boys gathered round. All of them still holding their guns, some with paint on their faces. They’d never looked happier. The older boys knew what it was like to lose and Nix could tell they appreciated the difference as much as he did. It was the younger ones though that the other camps had to worry about. These younger boys who never lost and would never be able to imagine losing. They were high on this victory and Nix hoped they would never come down.

“I want you boys to know that I’m very proud of you. You all fought hard today and you have done your camp proud,” Dick said. “When we load on the bus, make sure you give your guns to your cabin leader. And tonight, the kitchen will be serving pizza.”

A cheer went through the boys and Buck started trying to get them to form a line and drop off their guns.

“You planed pizza in advance,” Nix said, knowing that was the only way Dick could have pulled that off.

“You know, win or lose, they’d deserve it,” Dick said.

“They already like you Dick, you don’t have to go and start bribing them,” Nix said.

Dick smiled. “You know, this is it. The last thing I wanted to do that we never got to do when we were younger. We never won this. I think it might be time to grow up now, I know you do.” He looked at the yellow flag in his hand.

“It’s not that,” Nix said. “I just don’t like having to share you.”

“Maybe I won’t drag you down here next year,” Dick said.

“Oh don’t tease me,” Nix said smiling broadly.

Dick returned the smile. “Next year, we play adults.”

“I’ll make it memorable,” Nix said.

“I’m sure you will,” Dick smiled back and chucked the yellow flag over his shoulder.


	14. Fourteen

Roe woke up that morning with his face buried against Babe’s chest. Babe’s arms were wrapped around him and he just lay there, trying to absorb as much of this as he could. They had packed the night before, cramming everything inside their duffels except something to wear in the morning. They’d slipped off to their dock after lights out. They’d run down it, shedding clothes as they went. As he clung to Babe’s shoulders, he had tried to memorize the way Babe’s skin felt, the noises he would make, and the way he looked, shuddering as he came in Roe’s palm. He had tried to remember all of it because today, he’d lose it. Today, his mother would come and collect him and he’d be back where he started. He’d be facing down a school year with no friends. So he listened to Babe’s soft breathing and tried not think about what it would be like to not sleep with Babe’s fingers clutching and unclenching at his hip in the night. Roe nuzzled his face against Babe’s chest, breathing in the scent of the boy that had become his first friend and so much more after that.

Babe’s forehead creased and his fingers tightened on Roe’s hip. Roe leaned up and pressed a kiss on the underside of Babe’s chin. Babe made a whining noise again. “Not yet,” he whispered.

And Roe understood, but the fact remained that his mother would be here in a couple of hours and he didn’t want to spend all of them in bed.

“We need a shower,” Roe whispered. “Remember?” It wasn’t so much that Roe need to bathe, but that was a place they thought would be empty in the morning.

Babe groaned, but he rubbed his hand over his face. “Ok, I’m up.”

They padded out of the cabin quietly, shower bag and towel in hand to keep up appearances. When they got to the showers, they were empty. Roe pulled his pajamas off and hopped in the shower, trying to find at least lukewarm water. He jumped when Babe got in behind him and wrapped one of his arms around Roe’s waist.

“Thought we could conserve water,” Babe said against the skin of Roe’s neck.

“Sure you did,” Roe said, turning around and kissing Babe, pulling him closer by his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Babe whispered, pushing a bit of Roe’s hair off of his forehead. 

“Me too.” Roe’s fingers tangled in Babe’s red hair. It was one thing to have Babe’s phone number and email address. It couldn’t compare to being able to slide wet fingers over his rib cage.

Roe hissed as Babe pressed him against the shower tiles. Babe took Roe in his hand, stroking him slow, fingers drifting over his head on the upstroke.

“Are you’re mine?” Babe whispered right into Roe ear.

“Yes.” Roe’s breath caught. “Yes, yours. Fuck, Babe.”

Babe kissed the skin behind Roe’s ear as he picked up his pace. Roe held tight to Babe’s shoulders, rocking his hips into Babe’s hand.

“All mine,” Babe whispered. It was a statement this time, all traces of questions gone. Ron supposed it was something Babe needed to fill the year. And Roe was happy because it was true. In all the ways that mattered, it was true.

“Babe,” Roe whined as he tumbled over the edge. He caught his breath against Babe’s shoulder before he started stroking Babe’s cock. Babe nuzzled his shoulder. He’d made Babe promise to leave a mark on each shoulder before he left. Babe had left raised bruises on his right shoulder the night before. He’d promised to get the left in the morning. Roe wanted to see the bruises every morning when he got ready. Throughout the day, he’d carry little of Babe beneath his skin, a reminder to ease the transition to being back on his own. Babe’s teeth brushed his skin, lips sucked, and tongue smoothed the way after. Roe stroked him as he did, tightening his grip on the upstroke, fingers brushing over Babe’s balls on the way back. When he reached the edge, Roe felt Babe bite down hard on his shoulder. It hurt just a bit, but Roe knew it would last and that’s what mattered.

They stood there after, kissing in the cold water before they got out and gathered their things. They never moved so far from each other that they couldn’t reach out and touch.

Back at the cabin, Roe said goodbye to Malarkey and Penkala. Penkala told him to get a twitter and it would be like he never left. He caught Muck on the porch and Muck pulled him into a hug and Roe thought, of all of them, he’d miss Muck the most and it hurt that he wouldn’t be back next year. Roe told him that and Muck just smiled. “Ahh kiddo, you’ll be too busy sucking face with your boyfriend to notice I’m gone.” Roe insisted he would and Muck smiled before ruffling his hair and told him to take care of himself.

As he walked towards the parking lot with Babe, Babe carrying his birdhouse for his mom, he blinked fast against eyes that threatened to tear up.

“Do something for me,” Babe said.

“What?” Roe asked as he stopped walking.

“Make other friends,” Babe said. “Because I don’t want to think of you in a new high school by yourself. I’ll get stupid jealous when you talk about them, but please try.”

“No one is ever going to take your place,” Roe said, running his thumb over Babe’s cheekbone. “You have nothing to be jealous about.”

“They get to see you every day and I don’t,” Babe said.

“Well, I’ll always rather be with you,” Roe said.

Babe kissed him quickly and they started walking again. Roe spotted his mother’s car pulling in as they got to the parking lot. He watched as she got out and saw her posture change when she noticed him walking towards her.

“Sweetie,” she said, holding out her arms. “I mean, Roe.” She put her arms down.

Roe smiled before he hugged her anyway, happy to see her even though it meant going home. He felt her arms wrap around him. “Mom, this is Babe,” Roe said as he pulled away and gestured to Babe.

“And this is your birdhouse, Mama Roe,” Babe said and winced at the use of the cabin nickname.

“It’s so pretty.” She squeezed Roe’s shoulder.

“They call you Mama Roe,” Roe said and his mother smiled.

“Then Mama Roe I shall be,” she replied. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you Babe, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. My favorite by far is that you let my son turn you into a zombie, such a noble sacrifice.”

“You told her about that?” Babe said, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“Of course he did,” she smiled as she put her arm around Babe’s shoulder. “Now when you get home Babe, you start buttering your mother up on the idea of us coming to visit. When you think she’s good and primed, you let Roe know and I’ll call and chat her up.”

“You’re going to come up and visit?” Babe said, a smile splitting his face.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” she said, patting his shoulder. “I got the school calendar the other day, so I know when all Roe’s breaks are.”

“He calls me Gene,” Roe said to his mother.

“Aww, that’s sweet, so do I,” she said. “I also want to point out to her that having you fly down here on a weekday would save her on airfare. That way we can keep you for a couple of days on each side of camp.”

“Awesome,” Babe said, still smiling like he’d won some kind of prize.

“I thought so. Here, let me get that birdhouse out of your hands so you two can say goodbye,” She took the house from Babe. “So pretty. It was so very nice to meet you Babe.”

“You too, Mama Roe.” Babe nodded his head.

Roe watched his mother smile. “I’ll be in the car, sweetie.”

Roe nodded as she walked away.

“I really do love your mom,” Babe said.

“I think she’s pretty fond of you too,” Roe said.

Babe reached forward and hugged him. “Text me when you get home, ok? So I know you’re alright when I get home.”

“Ok,” Roe said, squeezing Babe as tight as he could.

“Ok,” Babe said, pulling back and turning to walk away.

“Wait,” Roe said and Babe stopped and turned around. Roe walked over to him and cupping Babe’s face in his hands, pulled him in for a kiss. He chased Babe’s tongue around his mouth one last time before he pulled away. “Let me know when you get home.”

“I will,” Babe said, pressing a kiss to Roe’s cheek.

Roe took Babe’s hands in his, squeezed them before he walked over to his mother’s car and got inside.

“So not just your friend then,” his mother said as she started the car.

“Not just,” Roe agreed, shaking his head.

“Well, now we have to go and visit,” his mom said as she put the car in drive.

*~*

“Ok everyone, check under your beds and make sure you’ve got everything,” Grant said as he pulled the strings on his duffel. They had gotten an early start this morning, pulling their sheets off the beds, packing, and checking the cabin over to make sure they had everything picked up. They’d received the unpleasant news that the cabin four’s Cabin of the Camp winning streak was over. Bull had been so delighted that it was two this year, he went from cabin to cabin bragging about. From the sound of things next door, Muck was just as pissed. Grant said it was probably the ATV crashing into a tree that fucked them both. What kind of example were they setting if one of them was best cabin in the camp?

“Alright, we got everything?” Grant asked. Everyone seemed to and nodded because he continued, “Alright everyone up to the parking lot. The last thing we need is to cap off this summer off with one of you missing the bus.”

Webster sighed as he shouldered his duffel. He’d been looking for a chance to get Joe alone all morning, but so far no opportunities had presented themselves.

“Or more likely two of you,” Grant said as he held the door open for them to walk out.

Webster wasn’t surprised that Grant had figured it out, it wasn’t like they were being overly careful. And Grant had been on high alert since he’d learned they had snuck a forgery by him. Webster felt strangely sentimental as he left the cabin behind. Grant had assured him he had a plan for getting him down here next year, it would already be set in motion the second they got home.

“Don’t worry, Web,” Hoob said, squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll get you back here. I’ll get hold of a couple of Monster drinks and I can probably have my half knocked out before school starts. Just let Grant know the second you get you PSAT scores back and we will be cooking with gas.”

“You’re not even going to tell me what’s going on?” Webster asked as he walked to the parking lot.

“And spoil the surprise?” Grant said. “Not in a million, just don’t make any summer plans because we’ll get you down here even if we have to kidnap you.”

“That’s plan B?” Webster asked.

“Sure, road trip,” Grant said. “I’ll grab Joe and Hoob on the way.”

Webster shook his head as he climbed onto the bus. There wasn’t anyone else on the bus yet and Webster sat down in the first bench available.

“Oh my god, you are such a nerd,” Joe said, grabbing his backpack. “Come on teacher’s pet, back of the bus.”

Webster followed Joe down the aisle of the bus and took the seat next to Joe since that was where Joe set his backpack. Webster fished around in one of the side pockets for his cellphone and turned it back on for the first time all summer. He didn’t know what to think about that the entire time there weren’t any texts from his parents. He opened his contacts and started making one for Joe, from the information Joe had written in his journal. Joe leaned over, resting his cheek on Webster’s shoulder to see what he was doing. Webster tilted his phone so Joe could see it. Joe made a considering noise and returned his attention to looking out the window. The bus filled up with noisy campers and they were off, lurching their way to the airport. He rode next to Joe in silence, shoulders knocking together as the bus swayed. He wanted to say something, but all the things he wanted to say weren’t fit for a bus full of people.

They unloaded at the curb, each looking for their respective gates.

“Well, I’ll see you miscreants next summer,” Grant said, shouldering his duffel bag. “Let me know when you all make it home safe. And you,” he said looking at Joe. “Try and stay out trouble.”

“Ahh, where’s the fun in that?” Joe said, smiling.

Grant shook his head as he walked away from them. As Webster watched Grant walk away, he was struck by how grateful he was that Winters had sorted him into four. Over the summer he’d gotten to know Luz, Muck, and Randleman. They all seemed like good cabin leaders in their own way. He didn’t know if any of them would have tried to carry Hoob to safety with paintballs whizzing around them. He didn’t know if any of them could have managed to navigate the minefield of Joe’s emotions. He didn’t know if any of them would have been willing to consider breaking and entering over second hand comics and a fifteen year old’s journal. What he did know was that Charles Grant had, and for that Webster would always count himself lucky to have been in his cabin. He taught them everything they needed to know and Webster knew they were all better for it.

“Well, I’m this way,” Hoob said, nodding in the other direction.

“See you later, Hoob,” Joe said, clapping his arm.

“Take care, Joe,” Hoob said, giving Joe that lopsided smile that Webster had to appreciate. “You too, Web. Good luck with this one.”

Webster smiled and shook his head, but he noticed that Joe was smiling too. “I’ll manage somehow. Let me know when you get home.”

“Will do. See you losers next summer,” Hoob said, nodding at them as he walked away.

“Well, are you going to be a complete girl about this?” Joe asked once Hoob was out earshot.

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” Webster said. “So I’ll call you when I get home and apparently, I’ll see you next summer.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “That sounds about right. I’ll see you next summer, Web.”

Joe set off walking in the direction Grant had gone.

“I am going to miss you though,” Webster called.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Joe called back.

Webster smiled and turned to walk for his gate. He worked his way through the check-in process, amazed by the people that still tried to check in for a flight with everything they owned into a suitcase. He ran into Babe in airport security and he looked as miserable as Webster felt. He finally made it to his gate and claimed two chairs outside his gate in the middle of the row. He took out his journal and begin to write, figuring that was as good a way as any to pass the time before his flight boarded. When he hit a block he sighed, got up, and walked to the other side of the main aisle to the newsstand. He considered the writing magazines and ended up with a copy of Poets & Writers Magazine even though he knew there was a copy waiting for him at home. He had a layover in DC after all. He bought a Coke and a couple of king sized Hershey bars, just because they were there. As he walked back to where he had been sitting, he noticed his seat had been taken by Joe.

“Good thing I bought two,” Webster said as he tossed a Hershey bar to Joe.

“Oo, king sized,” Joe said as he caught it. “You spoil me. I convinced my handler to let me sit with you,” He gestured across the way as Webster sat in the chair next to him. “My gate is just over there.”

Webster smiled. “Mine doesn’t seem to notice I’m here.” The airport attendant that was supposed to be keeping an eye on Webster since he was a minor was talking to another employee.

“Lucky,” Joe replied as he rested his head on Webster’s shoulder. “I may fall asleep on you, someone kept me up late last night.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” Webster said dryly as he opened his journal to keep writing carefully as to not jostle Joe’s head.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t get to complain now,” Joe said. “Are you writing about me?”

“Yeah,” Webster said.

“Read it to me?” Joe asked, not opening his eyes.

Webster considered the request and considered denying it, but decided what could hurt. Seeing that no one was close enough to hear him, he began to read. “When I left for summer camp, I hadn’t expected this day to affect me. If it did, I imagined that I would mourn the loss of my freedom, not the loss of friends. Saying goodbye to Grant and Hoob hurt in a way I had not expected it too. It’s startling how quickly a person can invade your life and alter it forever with their presence. Saying goodbye to Joe was something else altogether and ultimately unsatisfying. The reason is simply that it wasn’t real, it wasn’t really us. It was a staged version of how we thought this should go. What was real were his fingers in my hair and my mouth on his neck the night before.”

Webster felt Joe’s fingers resting on his wrist, the tips gently tracing down his palm.

“Those are the moments that I will think about when I catch myself missing Joe. Not the facade of casual indifference constructed for others on the pavement in front of the airport, but rather the softness we saved for ourselves.” 

Joe’s fingers gripped Webster’s wrist. “Shit, Web.”

“I know, I’m the girl,” Webster said as he reread what he’d written trying to figure out where he might have been going with that train of thought.

“We will now begin boarding flight 661 to Phoenix, Arizona. We’d like to begin by boarding with our priory access members.”

“Shit,” Joe swore as he nuzzled his face along Webster’s shoulder.

“That’s you?” Webster asked, even though he knew the answer to that question.

“Yeah, that’s me. I have like an hour there before I get to go home.” Joe straightened up and rubbed his hands across his face. He picked up his backpack and pulled it onto his right shoulder. He stood up and looked at Webster. He looked conflicted, as if he had something to say and no idea how to say it. He took a step forward and cupped Webster’s face in his hands. He pulled Webster forward sharply and kissed him. Joe’s teeth caught Webster’s bottom lip and his tongue slipped into Webster’s mouth. Webster felt Joe’s fingers slip into his and pull ever so slightly before he pulled back so their noses were touching.

“Was that the realness you were looking for?” Joe whispered.

“Yeah,” Webster said, nodding.

“Ok,” Joe said. “I’ll let you know when I get home.”

Webster nodded again as Joe pulled back completely and started walking to his gate. Webster tried not to watch Joe’s retreating form, but failed. Joe made it all the way to his gate without looking back, but Webster hadn’t expected him too. As he watched Joe’s back disappear through the door leading to the plane, Webster knew that was it. From this point on they’d have to exist on text messages, emails, and long distance phone calls. It would be almost a year until he’d get to touch Joe again. Webster had no idea how they were going to make it, but he hoped they could figure it out.

*~*

“Is there a reason you’re folding dirty clothes?” Ron asked from where he was sitting on Carwood’s footlocker. “You know like all of that should probably go in the washing machine the second you get home? Just stuff it in there and keep you shave kit on top. Throw that on the dryer when you get home and dump it all, duffel included, and add a lot of soap.”

“You don’t sort your laundry?” Carwood said, folding his t-shirts.

“Not when I get home from camp,” Ron said. “There have been a couple of rainy years I almost burned it in the street, duffel included.”

Carwood smiled, but continued to fold his laundry.

“Oh my god, you are hopeless,” Ron said, getting up off the footlocker. “The boys are gone, our chores are done, and everyone else is next door. I might actually start ripping your clothes off if you don’t get with the program. Do you know how many people I had to bribe to get this?”

Carwood looked around the room and counted the beds with his index finger. “Two?”

“Three actually,” Ron said, arms crossed over his chest. “I had to convince Nix that since he gets to take his boyfriend home, it’s only fair I get a cabin to myself. So for the love of god, can this please wait until morning?”

Ron didn’t really give Carwood a chance to respond before he turned Carwood’s face in his direction. Ron guided him forward, with a hand on the back of his head, into a kiss. Carwood dropped the t-shirt he was holding, not caring where it landed. He turned into Ron, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him closer. Ron dragged his teeth over Carwood’s bottom lip. Ron started pulling at Carwood’s t-shirt so Carwood lifted his arms so he could pull it over his head. Ron’s shirt shortly joined Carwood’s on the floor. Ron’s mouth sucked and bit its way across Carwood’s collarbone and shoulders. Carwood figured writing ‘property of…’ on the same space would have accomplished the same purpose. Carwood’s fingers found their way to Ron’s belt and after that, his fly, causing Ron’s shorts to hit the cabin floor with a clank. Carwood was impressed Ron managed to get Carwood’s pants off with one hand. They pushed, pulled, and shoved their way back to Carwood’s bed. Ron finally pulled Carwood down on top of him.

“Lube’s in the nightstand,” Ron whispered in Carwood’s ear, his fingers tangling in Carwood’s hair.

“I don’t know…” Carwood started, already reaching out for the nightstand drawer.

“I’ll talk you though it,” Ron whispered before biting and sucking on the skin behind Carwood’s ear.

The lube is only thing left in the nightstand, just another reminder that this was it. The packing and urgency all present because by this time tomorrow, Carwood would be in Huntington and Ron would be dumping his laundry into a washing machine in Boston.

Ron maneuvered his way out of his boxers and tossed them over the edge of the bed. Carwood worked his off and tossed them over his shoulder. He’d probably never find all his clothes in the morning, but he figured it would be worth it. Ron propped one of his legs up on the frame of the bed and pulled Carwood between his thighs. Ron reached for the lube where it was resting by Carwood’s leg. He squeezed some into Carwood’s hand.

“Ok, so start with two,” Ron said. At Carwood’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “Because I want to feel it tomorrow and know it was you.” Tomorrow, distance would mean needing a reminder. Carwood’s slick fingers traced the muscles and felt them yield a little under his attention. As his fingers slid in, one of Ron’s hands camp up to grip the headboard.

“Fuck, Lip.”

Carwood moved his fingers, feeling the tight muscles gripping and pulling his fingers.

“One more,” Ron hissed, arching off the bed into Carwood’s hand. Carwood complied, leaning forward as he did so. He licked the line of Ron’s neck because he could. Because it was there, Ron’s head was tipped back into the pillow. And because tomorrow it wouldn’t be, so Carwood nipped and bit at the skin of Ron’s collarbone. A mark to match the ones that were forming on Carwood’s shoulder.

“Lip,” Ron moaned, his hand reaching down to grab Carwood’s wrist, stilling his hand. Limbs were rearranged, Ron’s left leg over Carwood’s shoulder, his right wrapped around Carwood’s waist. Carwood’s left hand braced above Ron’s shoulder, the other gripping the headboard for leverage. Ron’s fingers tangled in Carwood’s hair and gripping Carwood’s shoulder tight enough to bruise.

The bed rocked with the rhythm, back and forth, creaking dangerously as it slapped against the wall. Carwood didn’t care if they brought the whole thing down around them. Tomorrow, no one need this bed. Ron seemed of similar thought as he arched up to meet Carwood’s rhythm.

“Lip, fuck. Harder, Lip,” Ron moaned, using his leg to try and pull Carwood deeper. Carwood swore he felt the bed move as it banged off the wall. It didn’t matter though. What mattered was the arch of Ron’s spine. The way he moaned Carwood’s name as he tipped over the edge as if it were being torn out of his chest. Carwood’s rhythm stuttered as Ron’s muscles tightened around him. What really did it though, was the way Ron hissed ‘mine’ as his fingers tightened on Carwood’s shoulder.

Carwood leaned forward panting, breath coming in short labored gasps. Ron untangled them and guided Carwood down onto his chest. Ron’s fingers found their way back to Carwood’s hair, not pulling, just tracing the lines of his scalp. Carwood’s fingers trailed the lines of Ron’s ribcage, as he whispered, “Yours.”

Ron’s fingers tightened in Carwood’s hair for a moment before they relaxed and resumed their soothing pattern. “Yours,” Ron whispered as he pressed a kiss to Carwood’s head, acknowledging the claim Carwood had been too nervous to make.

In the morning, Ron would kiss him hard on curb and someone would whistle in their direction. In the evening, he’d get home, and find one of his camp shirts was missing. An accusatory text of ‘you stole my camp shirt’ will be met by a smug ‘finders keepers’. Teasing texts will follow describing what Ron is doing while wearing it. This will result in a hasty phone call, a closed laundry room door, and a hope that the washing machine muffled the sound for his sleeping family.

Tonight is for soft kisses, patterns traced on sweat damp skin, and two bodies pressed together as tight as they can on a twin bed. Distance is a painful reality of tomorrow. Tonight is for the comfort of closeness.

*~*

Nix stood outside of cabin two, staring at the shabby building with its peeling paint. For all that it wasn’t, Nix saw only what it was. His cabin. He’d turned up at these steps a resentful fifteen year old. He’d spent the first week passing from activity to the other, indignant about being sent off to this camp in the first place. Then, in the afternoon of zombie day, he’d met a skinny kid with bright red hair, who lived in cabin one. Nix smiled as he looked at the short distance between the two cabins. He’d crossed that distance under the cover darkness and the bright light of day. The goal always the same. Find Dick. It started with just the desire to be with him and morphed into trying to find a place to make out.

Back then he’d have given anything to keep Dick that close all the time. He’d have moved heaven and earth to get their houses as close as these cabins. They’d found a way to close the distance as best they could. Phone calls that lasted for hours led to Nix’s mother asking, “Who the hell in Pennsylvania do you know? You’re calling them every day?” A constant stream of texts and email connected the previous phone call with the next. When he’d got his driver’s license, he spent every break longer than a weekend driving to Lancaster. It took almost three hours but it was never not worth it between Dick and his warm, inviting family that always took Nix in. Dick’s mother’s kitchen felt like home in a way his own mother’s never did. They’d packed off to college at Northwestern because that’s where Dick had wanted to go, and Nix had very much liked the look of Chicago.

He turned the small jewelry box in his hands. He’d started considering this after the second marriage equality passed in Illinois. He’d finally gotten up the courage to buy rings after a month of passing a jewelry store on his way home from work. Each day he’d pass the window and pause for moment before shaking himself out of a fantasy. He’d spent the bus ride to his apartment convincing himself that it was a crazy, foolish, and stupid idea.

When he’d finally make it back to their apartment, he’d walk in and find Dick sitting at their kitchen table. He’d be surrounded by books for his classes, clicking away at his laptop while over thinking the assignment. He’d look up from the screen and Nix would be instantly sorry he hadn’t bought out the store.

He tossed the box in his hands. He’d spent the better part of spring semester trying to find the perfect moment to ask. It never came of course, because moments are never perfect. Valentine’s Day was out of the question, he had enough problems with that day without adding to the stress. Harry and Kitty had come down for Spring Break, and the last thing Nix wanted was an audience. Kitty had almost scared him off altogether when she said she couldn’t imagine trying to plan a wedding and finish school. Nix had noticed Harry had also deflated a bit. But she was a freshmen and they were juniors and…Nix had still ended up scared into inactivity for a month. May was never a good month for romance. Dick was always bogged down in preparing for finals. Remembering to set the coffee marker was about as romantic as Nix dared for during finals week. Then Dick had zoned in on summer camp with laser like focus.

So here he was, still carrying around this wedding set and with no idea what to do with it. Well that wasn’t true, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with them. It was getting from here to there that was the problem. Not to mention that he had Harry’s impending proposal to deal with. Whatever Harry was cooking up, it was going to be over the top. When it came to Kitty, Harry never settled for half measures. Nix knew that there was no way to win this but he wanted to be competitive. He didn’t want Dick to look back and find something about his proposal lacking. He didn’t want Dick to have to hedge his way around telling the story when asked. He wanted perfection and he knew he could obtain it.

He stuffed the box back into his pocket. He’d strongly considered popping the question here at camp. Seeing if there was some romance to be salvaged from returning to the scene of the crime. After all the bullshit they’d been through this year, he mostly just wanted to get out of here. He walked downhill from the cabins to the swim dock, because he was sure that was where he’d find Dick. They had a late flight, the joy of only needed one airport to get home, so they were the last ones here.

When he got to the dock, Dick was laying on his back with his legs hanging off into the water. He’s left arm was laying over his face, shading his eyes from the sun. His right rested on his stomach.

“How did I know you’d be down here?” Nix asked.

Dick shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion.

Nix smiled and sat down next to Dick’s shoulders, his legs stretched out in front of him. “Were you serious about playing adult next year?”

Dick moved his arm to look at Nix. “Don’t you think it’s about time? We’ll have graduated by next summer.”

“That’s true,” Nix said. “How adult are we talking here?”

Dick smiled, “Aren’t you always trying to convince me that we should take a vacation somewhere?”

“Celebrate our big graduations?”

“Something like that,” Dick replied. “Don’t get crazy.”

“That all the more adult you want to get?”

“Did you have something in mind?”

Nix shrugged and dug the ring box out of his pocket. “Maybe something to factor into your thinking.”

Dick’s eyes grew wide, shining with something Nix wasn’t sure he wanted to name. “Yeah, it is.”

“But it’s probably crazy,” Nix said, returning the box to his pocket.

“Less so than you might think,” Dick said, reaching out his hand and tracing over the ball of Nix’s knee.

Nix shook his head. Dick wasn’t the only one that over thought things. Dick turned every academic and professional decision into the greatest challenge of their age. But Nix was right there with him when it came to anything that might be remotely personal. Dick didn’t need romance, he didn’t need to be wined and dined. He never did. Somewhere along the way he’d decided Nix was just as he was. Now Nix was going to be damned if he gave him a reason to change his mind.


	15. Epilogue

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever packed for a trip without knowing where I’m going,” Dick called from their bathroom.

Nix smiled and leaned back against the headboard, the sheets still pooling around his waist. He had yet to get out of bed or put any clothes on. Dick had been trying to get the destination of their honeymoon out of Nix for most of the past week. Dick’s mom had even made a valiant effort when Dick’s parents had came down for the wedding. Nix wasn’t telling though, he was keeping this secret for as long as he could. If he could get Dick all the way to Seattle he would, he’d booked a direct flight. He doubted he could manage that. Doubted he’d make it all the way out to Sequin and their bed and breakfast. He was going to be damned if he didn’t at least make it to O’Hare.

“Summer camp, for example, would have provided me with a list,” Dick said as he walked back into the bedroom, wearing only his boxers, zipping up his shave kit.

“I gave you the weather for the first week,” Nix said, grinning.

Dick shook his head as he opened his closet.

The afternoon after he’d asked Dick to marry him, he’d called his mother. Dick came home after class and found him curled up on the sofa, contemplating the merits of getting tanked at about 3:30 in the afternoon. He’d asked Dick to just fuck a big wedding because he didn’t want his family there. Told Dick to call his parents and pick a day. They’d just find a courthouse and do it. Dick got that sad look on his face that he got whenever Nick’s parents didn’t meet his standards. Dick had run his fingers through the hair at the base of Nix’s neck. “Ok, Lew. Let me call mom,” he said before he pressed a kiss to Nix’s hair. Edie took the news in stride and thought they could be down the next week. They told her to hold off until May, after graduation. Dick’s dad had called back an hour later to say that they could afford to make two trips, they didn’t have to cram every major life event into a weekend. And if they wanted to do it up right, they’d be happy to give them money. Dick explained that the other side of the family was being difficult. At that point, Richard cut Dick off and Nix could hear what he said plain as day. “When do you reckon they’ll stop trying to ruin that poor boy’s life?” Nix doubted it would be anytime soon.

“Nix?”

“What?” Nix shook himself out his daydream.

“Am I going to need to take a suit?” Dick said smiling.

“I like you in a suit,” Nix said.

“Straight answers are sexy,” Dick said, shaking his head.

“Yes and couple of shirts, I’m going to take you out for a nice dinner if it kills you,” Nix replied.

Dick rolled his eyes and returned to his closet.

Nix had been the one to go collect Dick’s parents from the airport since Dick had to work. Edie had practically run for him. She’d pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek.

“Finally going to get you in this family,” she’d said, squeezing his shoulders.

Richard had walked up behind her shaking his head. “You’ll have to forgive her, son. She’s told everyone who asked, and couple people who didn’t, that we are in town for her son’s wedding.”

“I’m excited,” she had said. “It’s not every day your baby boy gets married.”

“Wait ‘til you see the bags,” Richard had said. “You’d think I was leaving her here.”

Nix had just followed them to baggage claim, grinning the whole way. Every time he was around, they had always been so warm and inviting. He remembered the first time he turned up at their house uninvited. It was Labor Day weekend and he drove there knowing he had bruises forming along his ribcage. When he’d gotten there, Edie had been in the yard. He’d told her who he was. She had smiled and invited him in for cookies until Dick and his father got back from the store. She insisted he stay for the weekend and if he’d have pulled up his shirt, she’d probably have let him stay forever. She never said anything about not knowing he was coming. Even told Richard that it just slipped her mind. Dick had locked his bedroom door later and put his mouth on any part of Nix that hurt.

“Am I going to need my passport?” Dick asked, sticking his head out of the closet, a hanger braced under his chin.

“Already packed it,” Nix said.

“Of course you did.”

The pair of them graduated on the twenty second of May. Edie took enough pictures for two mothers. They got married the following Monday. Edie took more pictures and Richard gave them money to go out and have a nice dinner. Nix and Dick had tried to decline, they had already taken them out for dinner before the graduation. Eddie had told them not be silly before putting the envelope in Dick’s suit pocket. When Nix had read the card later, he’d had to fight back tears in one of Chicago’s best restaurants. When they’d gotten home, Dick had taken him apart and put him back together. Dick’s parents left Tuesday morning. Edie had hugs and kisses for both of them and made them promise to visit for Christmas.

“It’s their first Christmas as a couple Edie, maybe they want to spend it by themselves,” Richard had said.

Edie had made a face as if the very idea had never occurred to her. “Honestly Richard, don’t be absurd.”

Nix wouldn’t have dreamed of refusing. If Eddie had wanted them to spend the rest of their Christmas’ with her, he’d brave Pennsylvania in the snow.

“You’re already packed?” Dick was standing there looking at Nix’s suit in the suit bag.

“Yeah, I did it last night while you were sleeping.”

“The joys of knowing where you are going.” Dick said, crossing the room and crawling under the covers next to Nix.

“You finished packing?”

“I have to throw some things in in the morning,” Dick said, leaning in to place open mouthed kisses on Nix’s neck.

Nix turned his head to face Dick and pulled his husband in for a kiss. They’d been going at it like crazy since they’d gotten back from the airport on Tuesday. It was like when they’d first gotten their apartment. The frenzied desire to have sex in every room because ‘fuck we’re living together.’ This was better though. This was married sex. This was better because it was ‘fuck you’re mine now, the state of Illinois says so.’”

Dick shucked his boxers and rolled over so that he was on top of Nix, pressing him to the bed. Dick resumed his trail of open mouthed kisses behind Nix’s ear. Dick’s fingers clutched at his hips, trying to stop Nix from thrusting up into him. Nix reached over his shoulder and grabbed the lube off the nightstand. He pressed it into Dick’s hand. Dick kissed the inside of Nix’s thighs as he worked in the first finger. Nix carded his fingers through Dick’s hair in an attempt to pull him back up. Dick complied and Nick pulled him forward by the back of his head. His fingers were still cradling Dick’s hair as he chased his tongue around his mouth. Dick pulled back panting against Nix’s cheek as a second finger joined the first. He arched down into Dick’s hand. Dick slid in another finger.

“Fuck,” Nix swore, pulling Dick back into a kiss. When Dick removed his fingers and slid inside of Nix, his back arched. Dick’s thrusts met him as Nix arched down. They pulled at each other, trying to get closer, even though they couldn’t. This was it, the rest of their lives. Kisses on sweat damp skin. The deep even rhythm Dick set. Nix moaned Dick’s name loud enough the neighbors might have heard and Dick followed him over the edge. The sound of his name when moaned would always be Nix’s favorite.

Dick twisted them over onto their sides, their bodies still tangled together.

“You’re stuck with me now,” Nix said, his forehead pressed against Dick. 

“I promised I’d be ok with that,” Dick whispered, his fingers tracing absent patterns on Nix’s hip.

Well, that wasn’t exactly what he had promised. Their second summer, Nix’s parents had been firm that he wasn’t going back. He’d probably enjoyed it too much for their liking. He’d called Dick in a panic. Edie had answered and he blurted the whole thing out before he knew what he was doing. She’d gotten Dick for him and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t convince him that there was any way this would be ok. Then Nix heard Richard’s voice in the background, “Son, let me call his father. We’ll get this straightened out.” An hour later, Nix was going to summer camp. He had no idea what had happened on that phone. Dick had only caught the tail end of the phone call on his end. “If we have to have this conversation again, it’s going to be in person.”

Nix had turned up a week later at summer camp with a black eye. That first night, Dick had kissed his forehead and made Nix a promise.

“One day, you won’t have to go home anymore.” 

*~*

Carwood scanned the area around the baggage carousels for Ron. He spotted him leaning up against one of the support columns, backpack on his shoulders, checking something on his phone. His army green duffel was on the floor next to him. In reality, it hadn’t been that long since he’d seen Ron. It had only been four months since he’d come down to visit over Christmas break. It seemed like it had been much longer. Seeing Ron standing there made something in Carwood ache to touch him and be touched in return.

He weaved his way through the sea of people over to Ron, “Hey.” It sounded lame to Carwood’s ears, but when Ron looked up, he smiled brightly.

“Hey,” Ron said, reaching hands out and pulling Carwood forward by the back of his head. The kiss was more like a crash then anything. Weeks of not seeing each other passed between them. “I missed you,” Ron whispered as they pulled back.

“Me too,” Carwood said, swallowing around other things he wanted to say.

“Bed came in before I left,” Ron said. “I made myself put it together so it’d be done when we got back.”

“So productive,” Carwood smiled. The first thing that he and Ron had bought together was a larger bed for Ron’s apartment. It was only a queen, but considering the double Carwood had at home and the twin they crammed themselves into a camp, a queen was huge.

“Did you get your car packed?” Ron asked.

Carwood nodded. “Yeah and our duffels should fit in the back.”

“See you were productive too,” Ron smiled. The plan after summer camp was for Ron to fly home with Carwood and help him drive his stuff up to Boston. Carwood’s mom wasn’t really happy with this plan. She thought it was too soon, he could hardly know this boy. Carwood did though, he was pretty sure he already loved this boy.

“Harry’s around here somewhere,” Ron said absently. “He and Kitty landed a little after you did. Kitty’s dying to meet you.”

“Really?” Carwood said, a little surprised Kitty even knew who he was.

“Yeah, Harry told her I have a boyfriend and I haven’t really had one of those before so she’s gotten herself a little worked up.” Ron sighed like Kitty was being unreasonable.

Carwood smiled because he couldn’t help it. ‘Boyfriend’ still felt new. He didn’t get to say it often. Once to his mom and little brother. So every time he said it or heard it, it made him smile uncontrollably for thirty seconds or so.

“Oh god, not you too,” Ron said.

“Sorry,” Carwood said, trying to school his features. “I’ll work on it.”

“Please try,” Ron said, but he could tell he was fighting the urge to smile.

“So what’s all this work you and Harry have to get done?” Carwood said. Harry had made it sound like a lot over the phone, but Harry had a habit of exaggerating.

Ron absently rubbed the back of his neck. “About that...Harry lied.”

“What?”

“Kitty has to be back today. So Harry wanted to come down early. Well, Sink sent me the keys and with all the confusion over who was in charge this year, I barely got them in time. So there was no time to mail them to Harry. So I told him I’d come down early.”

“So he lied to me so you wouldn’t be alone,” Carwood finished.

“In my defense, when you called me you already had your ticket,” Ron said.

“So we have nothing to do?”

“We have to get a mattress out of storage,” Ron said with a shrug. “I’m sure we can find a way to pass the time.”

Carwood’s mouth went dry. He was about to say something in response when he heard the whistle for the arrival of luggage.

“I’ll wait here for them,” Ron said, gesturing in the direction of the now turning carousel. Carwood turned and walked towards where he hoped his duffel would appear. He knew exactly what Ron meant when he said a way to pass the time. And it was Carwood who put the idea in his head. They’d filled the months between August and January with phone calls. They’d start out innocent enough. ‘How was class?’ ‘How’s your family?’ Somewhere, though, in the course of the small talk, it would take a teasing turn. It wasn’t always Ron that started it, but somewhere along the way the call would slide into phone sex. Ron was better at it, more descriptive. Of course he was always alone in his apartment. 

One night, Carwood had schooled up the nerve and asked ‘Would you ever want to do it to me?’ Ron then proceeded to describe, in dirty detail, how he’d open Carwood up and fuck him. Carwood still blushed when he thought about that conversation. This was problematic because he thought about it a lot. And often in places that you shouldn’t be thinking something like that. Like, for example, the Atlanta Airport baggage claim. It had only become more of a problem when Ron came down to visit him in January. One afternoon they’d gotten the house all to themselves. That afternoon, pressed against his bedroom door, Carwood came down Ron’s throat with three of Ron’s fingers inside him. Now Carwood had that image to contend with. Fortunately, nerves and embarrassment kept him from getting turned on.

Carwood sighed and picked his duffel up and turned around to see Ron hug a girl with curly brown hair. Carwood knew right away this must be the Kitty. Harry may have embellished a lot and sometimes outright lied, but Kitty was every bit the beauty he described. She smiled at something Harry said and Carwood understood why Harry did tend to go on about it. He worked his way back through the crowd.

“Lip,” Harry called. “This is Kitty.” Harry beamed when he said it.

“So you’re Lip,” she said, turning to face him, still smiling. “Oh don’t be shy, you get a hug.” She pulled Carwood into a soft and brief hug. “Anyone willing to put up with Sparky gets a hug. I’ve heard so much about you, all of it good.” She cast her eyes over at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Jesus, Kitty,” he said.

“Did you think I’d miss an opportunity to embarrass you?”

“Harry, doesn’t Kitty have a bus to catch?” Ron asked.

“Don’t mind him, he’s worried we’ll become friends and I’ll reveal all his secrets,” Kitty said.

“Secrets, huh?” Carwood said, finding it impossible not to like Kitty right away.

“So many.”

“Go easy on Sparky, he did fly down early for this abuse,” Harry said.

“Well I suppose we should get our bags,” Kitty said. “I’ll see you boys later. Do try and stay out trouble.”

“These two?” Harry said. “Please, they wouldn’t know how.”

As the pair walked away, Ron said, “And now you’ve met the future Mrs. Welsh.”

“She’s heard nice things about me,” Carwood said.

Ron shook his head. “They came into town and Harry got me drunk.”

“Maybe I can get him to do it again so I can hear them.”

Ron sighed. Carwood could tell he was starting to regret having friends. Carwood smiled and leaned against the pillar. He stood close enough that his shoulder touched Ron’s. And if he felt fingers stroking his palm, he decided not to mention it for fear that it might stop.

“Alright boys what do you say we hit the road?” Harry said, looking a little deflated.

“Oh cheer up, Harry. You’ll see her in a few hours,” Ron said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“Is anyone else a little pissed we didn’t get invited to the big wedding?” Harry asked as they walked to the van.

Carwood had to say he was a little surprised that Dick and Nix had just up and got married over the summer. It wasn’t surprising that they got married, it just seemed to happen really fast.

“I hadn’t really expected to be invited,” Ron said as he unlocked the back of the van and tossed in his duffel. He didn’t sound bitter, he just sounded like the thought had never really occurred to him.

“I did, damn it,” Harry said.

Carwood had to admit he did too. He had never expected an invitation, he’d known them only a handful of weeks. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be their best friend.

“Is that really the point though,” Ron said as they climbed into the van. Ron driving, Carwood riding shotgun and Harry in the back. “Isn’t the part that matters that they did it? A marriage is between two people, isn’t that the part that matters?”

“It matters to me,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, I would want you guys there.”

“So we’ll be there, Harry,” Ron said as he backed the van out of its spot. 

“You too, Lip,” Harry said, tapping Carwood’s shoulder.

“Of course he’s coming,” Ron said. “Who were you envisioning me bringing as a date?”

“Aww, going to a wedding as couple,” Harry said and Carwood wondered if that wasn’t a small part of what Harry was bitter about.

“Harry, you want to hand up the camp folder. The money to pay for parking is in there,” Ron said.

Harry dug around in Ron’s backpack, producing a manila folder and handing it up to Carwood. Inside was an envelope of cash and Carwood counted out enough to pay for parking. Under the envelope was the counselor cabin assignments. Carwood smiled when he noticed that he and Ron would be rooming with Harry. The other cabin was Buck, Martin, and Luz. They were running short staffed this year. Even though Sink had been given plenty of notice that Dick and Nix wouldn’t be coming back, he’d only hired Luz. Harry and Ron could have kicked up a fuss, but it left a spot open for Grant and maybe Malarkey or Bull next year. So they did away with crafts and water safety, moved Lip to ATVs, and gave Luz swimming. Everyone would have to pitch in a little more, but they thought they could get by. Carwood turned to the next page of camper cabins. As he scanned the names he’d noticed that Ron had taken his advice and put Babe and Roe in the same cabin. When his eyes hit cabin four, he was surprised to see the same four names.

“Wait, Webster’s back?”

Harry started laughing in the back seat and Ron smiled.

“I missed something,” Carwood said, clearly not in on the joke.

“Oh it’s b-e-a-u-tiful,” Harry said. “Grant called up Webster’s mother and convinced her that we’re an academic honors camp. Said Webster was being head hunted because of his test scores. Even had Hoob set up a dummy website. You should see it, Lip. It’s pretty impressive. It’s actually better than ours, we should have Hoob take a look at it sometime.”

“And she bought that?”

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Harry said.

“Grant said Webster told him that she’s actually telling people about us,” Ron said.

“Well, I guess it gets us real consent forms,” Carwood said.

“That’s what matters,” Ron said.

“Oh god, I just had a scary thought,” Carwood said. “Who are we going to put in charge of four next year?”

“I think it should be Hoob,” Ron said. “Webster wouldn’t want the responsibility and let’s be honest, Liebgott probably shouldn’t have that much power. Automatic weapons are one thing, but Cabin Leader?” Ron shook his head as if banishing an unpleasant thought. “No.”

“Because we are burdened with glorious choices,” Harry replied from the back seat. “Right now we only have bad choices. I don’t think when Dick put them together he knew it would go like this. We have one that forged his mother’s signature on consent forms. One that crashed an ATV into a tree. And one prone to fist fights. I think we are missing a valuable chance to split up that Little Shop of Horrors.”

“Ok Harry, you do that,” Ron said, glancing up into the rearview mirror. “And when Prone-to-fist-fights shows up on Sunday and wants to know why he’s not in the same cabin as his friends, I’ll tell him to talk to Counselor Welsh. There’s a social experiment. Let’s see how many more fights Liebgott gets into if you cut him off from his friends. How much shit did we get into, Harry? Replay our four years. Getting into fights with Sobel. You sneaking over to see Kitty. Lifting food from the kitchen. Oh and my personal favorite, ripping up the floorboards of our cabin. And they never split us up.”

“Ok, so you’re fine with throwing some poor fifteen year old in with those three?” Harry asked. “You know they are going to leave an impression on that kid. He may turn out just like them. Fair warning, when that Frankenstein’s monster grows up, I’m not coming back that summer.” 

“Yeah well, Nix said the same thing about Malarkey, Muck, and Penkala,” Ron said. “I think Roe turned out just fine.”

Harry made a noncommittal noise, but he didn’t push it any further. They pulled into the parking lot of camp and Harry still had his arms crossed over his chest. As they got out of the van, Ron looked at Harry and said, “Just because you’re pissed at Dick, don’t take it out on our cabin ok?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m gonna go over to Kitty’s unless you need my help with something.”

“I’m just going to get a mattress out of storage and call it. We can unload the rest in the morning,” Ron said.

“Ok,” Harry nodded. “You two have fun.”

“It sucks they didn’t invite him,” Carwood said once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t think they really thought about that way,” Ron said. “Nix has shitty parents, getting married wasn’t going to change that. Dick probably just did what he thought would be easiest for Nix. And Nix knew Dick would never want to get married without his parents there.”

Carwood frowned, not fond of the idea that anyone had bad parents. He followed Ron to get an ATV and then to the storage shed to get their mattresses, sheets, and two pillows. Carwood made his bed while Ron went and got Harry a mattress for appearance’s sake. Carwood felt horribly awkward sitting on the bed as Ron pulled the other mattress into the cabin and tossed it on the bed. Ron walked over to him and Carwood admired the long lines that made up Ron’s frame.

“You’re all nervous,” Ron said, running his fingers through Carwood’s hair.

“What if I’m bad at this?”

“Not possible,” Ron said without missing a beat. “But if you want, there are a lot of other things we can do. We’ll have this whole cabin all to ourselves all summer.”

Carwood pulled Ron down into a kiss, his tongue chasing Ron’s around his mouth. They would have the whole summer. Then they’d move to Boston and at some point, go to Harry and Kitty’s wedding. They had a future all laid out in front of them. Those thought steadied Carwood’s nerves.

Ron’s shirt was the first thing to go, crumpled into a heap on the floor so that Carwood could get his mouth on Ron’s collarbone. Carwood’s shirt followed next, landing on top of the footlocker at the end of the bed. Ron pushed him down on bed, mapping the expanse of Carwood’s chest with his mouth. Shoes hit the floor with heavy noises, which momentarily covered the moans, socks followed quickly after. Carwood’s shorts came next, the belt buckle clacking against the floor. Carwood’s boxers joined the growing pile after a search of Ron’s duffel turned up lube.

Carwood moaned as Ron’s finger traced his hole.

“Do you think about this a lot?” Ron whispered in his ear.

Carwood nodded because he didn’t think he could form words right now.

A second finger joined the first and Carwood knew that Ron deliberately hit his prostate as it went in. “You ever try it without me?”

Carwood shook his head. “Would have told you.”

Ron smiled as he spread his fingers and add a third. “You know I do,” he whispered. And Carwood did, because he had described it to him later when he’d called. “Spread out on my bed, wearing your t-shirt, it’s in my duffel. Figured you could have it back, I get to take you home this summer.”

Carwood moaned and arched off the bed into Ron’s hand. Carwood heard Ron unzip his fly. “You like that, coming home with me? Got a week before classes, think we’ll leave the apartment?”

“Fuck no,” Carwood hissed as he watched Ron pull off his boxers. Ron leaned down and kissed Carwood hard as he slid slowly inside him. Carwood tangled his fingers in Ron’s hair as Ron bottomed out.

“Mine,” Ron moaned against Carwood as he started to thrust.

“Mine,” Carwood repeated as he pulled Ron closer using his legs.

Ron set a rhythm, slow and easy, that made Carwood grip his shoulders and pull his hair. It sent him tumbling over the edge when Ron bit down on his collarbone. A few scattered thrusts and Ron followed behind him. 

“Fuck,” Ron panted as he collapsed on Carwood’s chest. “It’s going to be a good summer.”

“It’s going to be a good year,” Carwood said and he felt Ron smile against his skin.

*~*

Roe woke up, as he did most mornings, to the sound of his mother heading down to the kitchens. It wasn’t that she was particularly loud, but their house was always so quiet. Normally, he’d pad down there, still in his pajamas and they’d have breakfast. Normally, he didn’t wake up with Babe, their naked bodies tangled and with their foreheads resting together. So this morning, he stayed where he was in Babe’s arms, his hand pressed against his back. They’d ended up like this every night since Tuesday, when Roe and his mother had gone to airport to pick up Babe. Babe had kissed him right in the middle of baggage claim, hands in Roe’s hair, breath ghosting across his cheeks when he pulled back. Ever since that moment, they’d stayed as close as was allowed.

It was more comforting having Babe down here then it had been going to visit him. Babe’s parents didn’t have an understanding of the depth of his relationship with Babe. They had decided not to enlighten them, not to rock the boat, to feel them out slowly. It was almost painful to have Babe so close yet so far away. Babe’s mother had even remarked that surely Roe and his mother didn’t need Babe following them around for their whole trip. Roe’ mother had said it would come with time, some parents just refused to see what was happening. She promised next time they’d just save on airfare and just fly Babe down to visit them.

Roe nuzzled his face into Babe’s chest. They would have to get up soon, today was Sunday which meant they would leave for camp today. It was easy to say that he was looking forward to it more this year than he had last year. There was so much more to look forward to. He knew Malarkey would be his cabin leader. He knew Luz would be a counselor. He figured he could probably get out of archery for medic training. What mattered most though was that he had Babe.

Babe, who was making soft whimpering noises and pulling Roe closer. Roe pressed a kiss on the corner of Babe’s mouth.

Babe made contented noise before murmuring, “Do we have to get up?”

“Not yet,” Roe whispered.

“Good,” Babe said, pulling Roe into a proper kiss, his fingers running through Roe’s dark hair. For the last five days, most of their mornings had started this way and most of their nights had ended this way. Roe couldn’t think of any way he’d rather have it. Roe leaned into Babe until Babe rolled over onto his back, Roe moving so that he was sitting on Babe’s legs. He nosed along Babe’s neck, pressing open mouthed kisses on the skin there. He grazed his teeth along Babe’s collarbone and felt Babe’s fingers return to his hair.

“Gene,” Babe whined, tugging his hair slightly. Roe took the hint and lifted his head so he could kiss Babe. Babe’s tongue slid against his and Babe’s teeth caught his lip. Roe took Babe’s cock in his hand, setting a firm quick pace causing Babe to arch up to meet Roe’s hand. Roe could tell Babe was getting close by the way his fingers tightened in Roe’s hair and on his thigh. He broke the kiss and leant down to take one of Babe’s nipples in his mouth. He rolled his tongue along the bud and raked it ever so slightly with his teeth. That was it, Babe arched up into his hand, his cum smearing Roe’s hand and his own chest.

Babe’s breath came in labored pants. “Give me a second, I want to try something.”

Roe knew that he probably made a confused face, but whatever it was, he can’t imagine he’ll say no.

“Lay on your back for me?” Babe asked, running his hand down Roe’s chest.

Roe complied and slid over onto the other side of the bed. Babe moved on top of him and parted Roe’s legs to give him room to settle between them. This wasn’t a radically new position until Babe started pressing kisses along the line of Roe’s hips. It’s then that Roe got it, got where this was going. They’ve never done this before and Roe wasn’t even sure he knows how. Babe seemed to have the general idea as he licked Roe’s cock from base to tip.

“Babe,” Roe hissed as he gripped Babe’s shoulder. He wanted to run his fingers through Babe’s hair, but he knew he’d pull to hard.

Babe sucked the head of Roe’s cock into his mouth. He tongued the slit as he pressed Roe’s hips to the bed. Roe bit down on his index finger because he didn’t trust himself not to start screaming. He felt Babe’s hand stroking him as Babe tongued the veins of Roe’s cock. The suction, the heat, and the way Babe looked up at him through hooded eyes sent Roe over the edge. Babe tried to swallow, but wasn’t terribly successful and ended up with a smudge of Roe’s cum on his chin.

“Come here,” Roe said, pulling Babe towards him. Babe complied and Roe licked his chin before closing his lips over Babe’s. He’d never really considered cum as something he might want to taste, but there was something to be said for chasing the taste of his around Babe’s mouth.

“I didn’t think you’d want to kiss after,” Babe said, resting his nose against Roe’s cheek.

“Course I want kiss you,” Roe said. “You’re amazing.”

Babe smiled. “Amazing, huh?”

“Yeah, you can be a smug as you want right now,” Roe said.

Babe grinned. “Am I dreaming or do I smell bacon?”

“Mom’s making breakfast,” Roe said, gesturing to his door.

“Ahh, you’re mother’s a good person,” Babe said.

They took turns in the shower, got dressed, and dragged their duffels down the stairs. Roe’s mom made them eggs and bacon, insisting that they get one last good meal before they go to camp. They put away enough food to prove the truth in her words. She asked them three times if they had everything. They pretended to think about it every time. She gave them each a bag of M&Ms, Roe’s plain and Babe’s peanut butter. She once again offered to trade letters for candy. Babe reminded her how to mail the candy. The car was full of lively conversation on the way to camp, about their plans for the five days they’ll have after camp before Babe has to go home. Roe dreaded that day.

When they got to camp, his mother went with them to check in. Counselor Lipton was standing behind the check-in table.

“I have two to check in,” his mother said.

Lipton smiled at her as if her comment meant something extra to him.

“You’re all set then,” Lipton said. “Both of you are in three this year.”

Roe’s mind did a little trip and stumble over ‘both’ before he smiled. Babe just said, “Sweet.”

Lipton smiled. “Malarkey is your cabin leader.”

When Roe turned around, his mother’s smile was wide, but her eyes looked a little sad. “Take care, sweetie,” She said, pulling him into a hug. He squeezed her tight and told her that he loved her. 

“You too, honey,” she said, turning to Babe. Roe had noticed that his mother had started to call Babe ‘honey’ over the last five days about as often as she called Roe ‘sweetie’.

Babe gave his mother a hug. “I’ll make him write you.”

“Or you could just write me,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I welcome any and all letters.”

She told them she’ll pick them up right here, and got one more hug from each of them before she was on her way. Roe and Babe watched her car leave the lot before they headed to their cabin. When they arrived, Malarkey was once again sitting on his bed stringing a fishing pole. This time though, there was a boy with dark hair sitting next to him with rapt attention. Malarkey looked up when they enter the room.

“Ahh Babe, Roe, this is Ralph Spina, our first year.” Malarkey gestured to the kid next to him. “Spina, this Babe Heffron and Eugene Roe.”

“Hi,” the boy said, giving a small wave before returning his attention to Malarkey.

“Hey,” Babe said, returning the gesture. Roe managed a small nod.

“Don, is it cool if we take the bed by the window?” Babe said, nodding his head in the direction of Roe’s old bed.

“Yeah, that’s cool. Maybe make one of the others in case we get an inspection.” Malarkey opened a box of fishing tackle.

“Cool,” Babe said, turning to make up the bed across from Roe’s.

Malarkey turned to Spina. “They’re dating so they share a bed.”

“Oh,” Spina said, nodding as if to show he wasn’t bothered by this revelation.

Roe tried not to blush as he finished making what was to be their bed.

*~*

David Webster stepped off the bus to camp feeling much more confident than he did the year before. It was amazing what having your actual mother’s signature on your camp form will do for you. That confidence should have made him happy, it should have lifted his spirits, but it didn’t. All Grant and Hoobs’ hard work and he’d honestly debated not coming at all. He’d been proud to watch all their scamming come together, to watch his mother fall for their story. To watch her call her friends and tell them that her son had been head hunted by an academic summer camp. That was before April though. Well, more like March.

Joe had stopped responding to his emails in March and pretty much everything else. So Webster did what you do in these situations, your call your best friend. Grant, with maturity working for him, would probably have told him to just call. Hoob, on the other hand, was happy to enable Webster. With the addition of an extension on Chrome, Webster received an email every time Joe opened one of his. Without those auto replies, he’d have had no idea he was getting though. But even the auto replies stopped coming in April.

Webster knows he could have pushed. Shoved himself back into Joe’s life. Texted him until his fingers bled. Called him every second he wasn’t at school. If he could have maybe his presence so intrusive, Joe would have had to talk to just to make him stop. But Webster just couldn’t bring himself to inflict that kind of trauma. As he got off the bus, it was a little hard to not to feel like he was back where he started a year ago.

“Hey boy,” Lip said with a broad smile.

Webster smiled back, he couldn’t help it. “Hey Lip. Checking in?”

Lip just shook his head when Webster handed him his consent form. Clearly he’d at least heard the story. Webster wasn’t surprised if he’d masterminded this whole thing he’d be telling everyone to. “You’re going to be in four again. Think you can find your way down there on your own?”

“Yeah,” Webster said, remembering being lead there by Speirs the year before. “Is everybody else already here?”

“Yeah.” Lip sounded less excited then he had a moment ago. “Uh, Grant is somewhere around here showing boys to their bunks and um, Hoob is helping, ah, helping Speirs set up the archery range…”

“Jesus,” Webster swore. Hoob never volunteered to help Speirs with anything. While Hoob respected and trusted the man, there was still a healthy amount of fear there.

“Yeah, um, Lieb’s been a little...” Lip sighed.

“Yeah, that’s my fault,” Webster said.

“Oh, well I could use some help…”

“It’s ok Lip, thanks but I’ll just take my licks. Maybe he’ll have screamed himself hoarse by dinner?”

“Ok, Web. If you aren’t at dinner, I’m going to send in an extraction team,” Lip said.

“Thanks,” Webster said. He walked down the familiar path to his cabin. It was almost like last time. There wasn’t a thinly veiled threat from Speirs and Web missed it a bit. Though he supposed that maybe Grant didn’t need to farm out his intimidation this year. When he opened the door, Hoob wasn’t sitting on his bed and Web missed that most, the eager way he’d run towards him. So happy to have a friend. The rest of it was almost exactly the same. Joe was sitting on his bed, face buried in a comic book, Batman: Year One this time. Webster tried to take heart in the fact that this was the novel he’d given Joe for his birthday. He sent the present even though they weren’t talking. He’d been even more surprised when right before he left, Joe had sent him a used copy of Slaughterhouse 5 because Webster had said he’d never read it. Well, back when they were still talking.

“You know what?” Webster said, breaking the silence. “Fuck whatever you think of me, but you better fucking apologize to Hoob. Because whatever you put on him, he didn’t deserve it. I’m the one you’re pissed at so take it out on me. I’m the one that failed you. And I own that I am not as brave as you, so if you want to call me chickenshit and it will make you feel better, go for it. I’m the disappointment. I get it. Jesus, between you and my fuckin’ parents, I’m a disappointment to everyone I know.”

Webster tossed his duffle on his bed and the springs groaned in protest. “Their disappointment I can handle, it’s nothing new at this point. But Jesus Christ, you too? I did not see that coming because somewhere along the line, I talked myself into thinking you gave a shit. I studied my ass off for my PSAT so I could come down here and see you. I got a 212. If I was a junior, I’d be eligible for a National Merit Scholarship. You would know this if you read any of my emails. If I get an SAT score that good, any college in the country would be happy to have me.”

“I’ve decided where I want to go to and my parents are livid. They are going to send me to boarding school in Connecticut in the fall, which promises to be as horrifying as it sounds, because I need to ‘sort out my priorities’.” Webster shook his head trying to banish the unpleasant thought. When they’d first mentioned it, he thought they were bluffing. He’d called them on it and lost. “I have to say I might agree with them. See the thing is, when I started fighting them over going to Berkeley, I thought there might be a good reason to be in the Bay Area. I had a reason, so I could handle my parents’ crippling disappointment because the tradeoff was worth it. We’d be in the same state, I could see you on the weekends, and maybe get my own place sophomore year. Then you stopped talking to me.” Webster raised his voice trying to provoke some kind of response out Joe. Whose nose was still buried behind the comic.

“So yeah, I’m not brave. I can’t stand there in my parents’ living room and tell them I’m bi, because I’m pretty sure they would cut me off. I can’t have that happen because I am trying to get them to pay for a college across the bay from your house. That’s it, that’s all I’ve got right now. I get that’s not enough, I get I failed you. But Jesus Christ, that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on Hoob, or anyone else of that matter. So fucking shift your displeasure to where it belongs, I took it before and I’ll take it again.”  
Webster yanked his duffel bag open and began pulling out his things.

“Maybe when I get home I can tell my parents the good news, I’ll fucking go to Harvard and they can save their disappoint. Because I can’t take this shit on both sides anymore. One of you has got to stop giving me the silent treatment or I’m going to fucking lose it. ”

Webster exhaled sharply and looked over at Joe. The comic was sitting open on his lap, he was gripping both pages, rubbing his thumbs along them. He wasn’t looking at the book anymore, he was staring straight ahead, his bottom lip caught in his teeth. “Look, I’m going to…whatever, it’s like talking to the fuckin’ wall,” Webster said, turning to go, leaving the contents of his duffel on the bed.

“You didn’t fight with me.”

When Webster turned back around, Joe was standing beside his bed, comic abandoned on the night stand.

“You always fight with me,” Joe continued. “I push, you push back. It’s the only way I know you give a shit. Not only did you fold like a cheap fucking lawn chair, the worst part is that you didn’t even stop for one fucking second and ask why I wanted this so bad. You just thought about your damn self, and how it was going to be hard to tell your parents. You think it was fucking easy to tell my parents? You think that it didn’t gut my mother when I told her I’m never going to marry a nice Jewish girl and give her a yard full of grandchildren? I had to listen to her cry herself to sleep through the fucking wall. But I wanted it to be real. It just didn’t feel real if we went home and nobody knew about it. It made it feel like a dirty fucking secret. It felt like it was something you could forget.”

“I wasn’t going to find someone else, Joe. Jesus, that’s why I kept sending you emails even after you stopped opening them, because nothing felt real until I told you.”

“How the fuck am I supposed know that? You live on the other side of the freakin’ country. That’s not what really scares me though. What keeps me up at night is that you’re going to find a girl. That mommy and daddy’s disappointment is going to become too much to bare and you’re going to take the easy way out. Go to Harvard, marry the pretty girl, have a kid, and make your parents oh so proud. I am never going to be that for you. They are never going to look at me and think that. I am never going to be enough for them and I don’t give a shit. The problem is what if I stop being enough for you.”

Webster crossed the room to where Joe was standing. “Nothing about you is easy, but I wouldn’t want you if you were.”

“You say that now, but are you still going to want me when your parents ship you off to boarding school or cut you off? I am a no-win scenario, Web.”

“You make it sound like it’s a can-win the other way,” Webster said. “There is nothing I want on the other side. There is a job I don’t want and a degree for a school I don’t want to go to. There’s a fucking train wreck of a marriage just like my parents. I can’t even envision bringing kids into that, they’ll come out worse than I am. At least with you, Lieb, I don’t have to be something I’m not.”

“Fuck,” Joe said before he grabbed the back of Webster’s head and pulled him into a kiss. They crashed into each other. Hands pulled desperately to get their clothes off. There was a possibility that Joe had actually ripped Webster’s t-shirt getting it off over his head. Webster picked Joe up, hands on his boxer clad ass and deposited him on his bed. It was a tangle of limbs at first, but they managed to get Joe’s legs bracketed around Webster. Their kisses were still the messy crash of lips and the edge of teeth.

“How the fuck do you still have your pants on?” Joe said, practically tearing Webster’s fly open. The remainder of their clothes were hastily shed. As he slid his hips against Joe’s, he realized that this is the first time he’d gotten Joe completely naked. Before, it was always an exercise of creativity to have sex but keep most of their clothes on. It felt significant in a way that Webster wasn’t sure he had the words for.

“Want you to fuck me,” Joe hissed.

There was a stutter in the roll of Webster’s hips. He was absolutely sure that he could not handle that statement right now, or the way Joe said it. He also knew he was woeful out of his depth.

“I don’t…” he stuttered.

“I have the stuff in the nightstand,” Joe said as if that was the only roadblock involved here. And what the hell? They were fighting when Joe packed for camp.

“I open myself up and pretend it’s you,” Joe whispered directly in Webster’s ear. Webster could feel Joe’s lips on his ear as he said the words.

“Jesus,” Webster moaned. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Do you want me to tell you?” Joe smirked as he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out the tube of lube. “Or do you want me to show you?”

Webster kissed Joe as he rolled his hips down into Joe because there were no words for that offer. As Joe squeezed the lube over his fingers, Webster wanted to watch, but he knew he couldn’t and hold up his end of this. Watching Joe’s face, though, might not have been the best alternative. Watching his eyes widen, his teeth worry his bottom lip, and his head rock back, tightening the tendons in his neck.

“Fuck, Lieb,” Webster swore as he nosed the skin of Joe’s neck.

“Say it again,” Joe gasped.

“Everyone calls you that.” Webster was mystified that there was any uniqueness left in the nickname.

“You mean it,” Joe said, turning his head to kiss Webster. It was all tongue and a distraction to guide, move, push, and practically shove Webster where he wanted him. Sitting upright on his knees between Joe’s legs, Webster watched as Joe rubbed lube on Webster’s cock.

“Fuck,” Webster hissed through clenched teeth.

“That’s the idea,” Joe said around heavy breaths.

Joe’s knees tightened around Webster as he sunk into the tight heat of Joe. Joe’s eyes were closed and his chest was heaving in an effort to get air.

“Lieb,” Webster said and it had the desired effect. Joe’s eyes snapped open and he reached for Webster. His fingers tangled in Webster’s hair and pulled him forward and deeper. Webster’s hips snapped back and Joe thrust up to meet him. The pace they set was frantic, at one point the head board bounced off the wall. Joe pulled Webster’s hair and Webster bit his neck in return. That was what sent Joe over the edge, Webster’s teeth breaking the skin of his shoulder. The clench of Joe’s muscles broke Webster’s rhythm.

“Come on, Web,” Joe said, arching his hips up. “Come on.” And he did, tipping over the edge and slamming into Joe. His vision blurred for a moment and after he pulled out, he lay down on Joe’s chest. He couldn’t find it in him to care that he also just laid in Joe’s cum. His head rested against Joe’s still rapidly beating heart. They lay there in silence, Webster tracing the lines of Joe’s ribs. Joe’s fingers were still in Webster’s hair. Not pulling, just combing through Webster’s hair. They lay there for what felt like an eternity but what was probably no more than a couple of minutes.

“Were you really going to come to Berkeley?”

“Yeah, I am,” Webster said, changing the tense and hoping Joe noticed the difference.

“Even with the boarding school?” Joe’s fingers stilled.

Webster sat up so he could look Joe in the eye. “Especially with the boarding school. They don’t get to frighten me out of what I want.” He kissed Joe then because he could and because he knew there would be a time when he couldn’t.

“Fight with me next time,” Joe said, leaning their heads together.

“Ok,” Webster nodded. “Don’t stop talking to me next time, even if you only just want to scream at me.”

“Ok,” Joe said as he licked his lips.

“You’re not so bad at apologizing,” Webster said.

“Not so bad?” Joe asked, but he’s smiling and that’s something.

“I’m leaving room for improvement,” Webster said. He knew there would be a lot of work to do, but they had time to do it. He thought they could manage it, they would manage it because it mattered.

“We kind of trashed your bed.”

“Fuck it, we’ll sleep in yours,” Joe said.

“You still have to apologize to Hoob,” Webster said.

“I will, princess. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Webster tried not to laugh and he nearly made it too, hiding his smile in the crook of Joe’s neck. He thought about getting up for dinner. Of the box of Hershey bars at the bottom of his duffel. Of defending Joe’s lone zombie survivor title. Of getting back Cabin of the Camp. Of the rest of the summer laying out before them. Of the future that lay after that. 

It wasn’t going to be easy, there were still many obstacles between laying in bed at summer camp and laying in a bed in an off-campus apartment. The distance didn’t seem so vast because he wasn’t going to have to cross it alone. He had Grant and his experience and ability to problem solve. He had Hoob and his eternal optimism and tech-savvy skills. Most importantly though, he had Joe with his stubborn streak and unfailing loyalty . Joe would push him, never let him give up, and drag Webster to the finish line if he had too. 

Webster hadn’t expected it would happen when he’d arrived at Igintli a year ago. He’d expected a tan, civil conversation, and one last summer of rebellion. The camp had made lofty promise, it had promised a band of brothers. It had delivered.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this album borrows from Mayday Parade album A Lesson In Romantics. 
> 
> Gilove2dance will have all my love forever. The beta work she did, made this fic happen. She also made a [cover](http://dollydagger87.tumblr.com/post/142982882629/title-a-lesson-in-summer-romantics-rating) for this fic.
> 
> [Art](http://smollchris.tumblr.com/post/147767477340/babe-and-roe-from-this-fic-that-i-absolutley-adore) for this fic was made by Smollchris. I'm very overwhelmed that my work inspired his art.


End file.
